A Lone Wolf's Reflection
by StarToucher
Summary: "If it makes him go back to Tonks, it'll be worth it, won't it?" The aftermath of Harry's harsh words to his father's best friend. Remus Lupin thinks back over his childhood, his schooldays as a marauder, the terrible years of war and the love that has grown between himself and Nymphadora Tonks. He thinks he doesn't deserve her. What will change his mind? Complete
1. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**A Lone Wolf's Reflection**

**Summary**: Harry's words cut him deep, but will they have the desired effect? After arguing with his best friends' son and storming out of Grimmauld place, Remus Lupin thinks back over the most poignant moments of his life. Will the long forgotten memories of happier times spent with those he loved and lost be enough to set him back on the right path?

An insight into Remus Lupin's life, his family and his friends, his school days and his work days, his actions and his choices from the day he was bitten to his final, most important decision of all.

**Disclaimer**: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JK Rowling. Anything else you recognize probably does too.

**A/N** I started this story years ago but have decided to update/completely rewrite it. Character pairings (Lily/James, Remus/Tonks, Harry/Ginny etc) are all canon. Time period is Marauder to Book seven. I tried to fit this story in with what we already know from the books as much as possible.

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><p>Prologue<p>

Once bitten, twice shy

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><p>I stare at myself in the cracked and ancient mirror. Searching desperately for a sign, however small it may be, that the smiling, laughing, carefree person I once was is still there behind the tired and dejected reflection.<p>

I gaze into it for a long time, but the only person I see staring back at me is the one I always see. The person who recently I have come to despise. A fool. An outcast. A man who has just abandoned his wife and unborn child because he believes that is the only thing he can do. A _coward_. The voice I know so well rings through my mind. "_I'd be ashamed of him_." Harry's face, so full of a loathing I would never have even thought possible of him, flashes in my memory. How have I come to this? How have I come to be scorned by the one person I have always believed, since the day I first held him as a new born baby, would look up to me, respect me and maybe even admire me? How have I come to be despised by my best friends' son?

**oOo**

I was just five years old when this all started. This twisted curse that has cast a dark, frightening and powerful shadow over my entire life. I can still remember it. Even though it was so long ago the memory of that day has not faded at all from my mind. That cold, still, night in mid September, when the full moon had just risen in the clear sky, and I was standing just outside the back door of my home, gazing out upon the woods and fields that stretched before my eyes and disappeared into the gloom.

Why was I not asleep? Inside, in bed, as every five year old should be at such a late hour. I ask myself that now, wishing with every fibre of my heart that I _had_ been safely tucked away in the warmth and comfort of the soft blankets. I wish that the howl that had fallen upon my ears had been a bad dream, nothing more than a nightmare that I could be woken from.

The howl should have scared me. I believe that was its intent. Its hollow and chilling sound did not invite company, nor did it evoke pity or compassion, sending a shiver down my spine so that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. But instead of fleeing, of returning inside into the safe, familiar interior of my house and shutting the door as fast as I could, I was intrigued, standing still upon the doorstep, my face alert, my ears open for the cry to come again, curiosity overpowering any slight notions of fear.

That moment represents the first in a long line of stupidly foolish mistakes, all of which I have come to regret bitterly. At five years old can we be responsible for our actions? Can we really be expected to make the right decisions? Maybe not, but today, when I recall how dearly I have paid for that one moment of wrong judgement, the thought that I was too young to know any better brings me very little comfort.

I just stood there, a simple image of the senseless idiot that I was soon to become, not moving a muscle, barely breathing. I didn't hear the howl again. Instead a rustling of leaves in the nearby bush caught my attention. It couldn't be the wind, not on such a still night.

All I saw was a large amount of matted grey fur, two ferocious eyes with balls of raging fire for pupils, and two rows of sharp yellow teeth, set in wide, slavering jaws. I heard the snarling - I can still remember it with painful clarity - as the hideous creature emerged from behind the bush and began to come towards me, hackles raised, its sharp, steely claws scraping on the concrete ground of the back yard. The two fiery eyes met my own for a fraction of a second, before the monstrous animal pounced, and the next thing I felt was a burning pain in my right shoulder, and the trickle of warm blood seeping down to my elbow. My head hit the concrete as I sank to my knees in pain and fear.

I must have screamed. Half unconscious, but awake enough to feel the agony that was pulsing through my arm, my petrified wails of pain and anguish, accompanied by the snaps and growls of the wolf, must have carried to the upstairs bedroom of my parents, because suddenly they were down beside me. The wolf had disappeared. Someone's arms were round me, carrying me inside. I remember nothing more. I could hear murmuring voices, people touching my arm, assessing the wound, but it has become a blur. Images of that time pass through my head, but in no logical order, with no sense to them.

For many weeks I lay in my bed. I felt sickly, and my head and limbs ached horribly. The wound was by now burning through my shoulder, causing me unbearable pain. The slightest movement would result in a piercing throb shooting down my arm, as if someone had plunged a white-hot dagger into my flesh. Inside I felt ill and weak. Worst of all, I felt as if some terrible monster had been let loose inside me, and was trying to scratch its way out, fighting tooth and claw to escape, but forever trapped inside the damaged image of a small, scared boy. Inside me.

Someone came to see me. A healer, I learned afterwards. I didn't go to hospital myself. My father wished to have me in the house where he could be with me all the time, so the healer, who was also an old family friend, came to me. But there was nothing he could do, other than give me potions to numb the pain temporarily, and put new, clean, white bandages round the deep wound in an attempt to stop any fresh blood from escaping the ugly gash.

There was no cure. No remedy that could prevent me from becoming a werewolf myself. My father had known that, and had already broken the news as gently as he could to my mother, but she had nevertheless desperately wanted to believe that there was some way of healing me. She wasn't magical. She had been led into the magical world after falling in love with my father when they were younger. When she had afterwards learnt of his magic she had supported him in it, and had even endeavoured to comprehend the world in which he so clearly belonged, but had never fully understood the necessary link it held to his life. Until I was bitten I believe she thought of it as little more than a hobby, a lucky gift that he happened to possess, something that could only facilitate his life, because, after all, what could be easier than waving a magic wand to solve everything?

It must have come as a shock to her when the healer announced sadly that there was nothing more that he could do for me. It had almost as much impact on her as the wound had had on me. Although it had even then begun to heal, the scar it left was far worse than the small white mark on my right shoulder. It was a deep, plaguing curse, one which would torture me for the rest of my life.

I grew up alone. I had no brothers or sisters, and no friends to speak of. There were too many dangers in mixing me with other children, especially those who were not magical and therefore could not even be warned of my illness, and my father would not take the risk.

As I grew up I learnt more and more about my problem, my sickness, my condition. These are the words some people have used to describe it, in an attempt at kindness and respect for my feelings, but to me they are meaningless. It is a curse. A bewitchment. An evil that has lived with me now for over thirty years.

I found out the name of the werewolf that bit me. My father was reluctant to tell me at first, but my mother, surprisingly, backed me up in my argument that I had a right to know, and after several years my father relented and gave me his name.

Fenrir Greyback.

After that, even the mention of that name made my blood run cold, my insides churn unpleasantly, and my throat convulse in hatred and fear. Sometimes in dreams I could still see those blazing eyes, those foul jaws. I could still hear him howling, and I could still feel the sensation of the damp, coarse fur brushing my neck as those terrible yellow teeth plunged mercilessly into my shoulder.

I found out that my father had offended the werewolf but I never found out how. My father refused to tell me and even my mother agreed that it wasn't my place to know. But it didn't really matter how it had come about. All that mattered was that on the night that he had chosen to take his revenge, I had been there, standing in front of my home as if I were waiting for him. As if I had been welcoming him with open arms. His task, his means of taking out his revenge, had been made so easy, thanks to me.

And so now at home I was alone. My parents were there for me as much as possible, but their relationship with each other had become complicated and difficult. They blamed themselves for what had happened, I could tell. My father because he had enraged the werewolf in the first place, and my mother because she had forgotten to lock the back door that night. We lived, at the time, in what we had believed to be a very safe neighbourhood (although we moved shortly after to a remote little house where no one would hear or see the tell tale signs of my transformations), and she regularly blamed herself for letting that lull her into a false sense of security.

I blamed myself. I still do. Even at such a young age I had demonstrated what a fool I could be, and as over the next few years my mother and father grew apart, I started to feel that the only thing holding them together was the guilt that they felt towards me. If they showed signs of going their separate ways, of parting from each other, it took only my transformation at the next full moon to remind them that I needed them. Both of them. My mother would be there with comfort and kindness, staying beside me as I wearily lay in my bed, or on the worn out sofa in the living room, recovering from my transformations. And my father would use his magic to heal the more superficial wounds as best he could. He would often tell me stories about the wizarding world, in an effort to make me forget my worries. He told me about famous wizards and witches of the past and present, and about his own time learning at Hogwarts school, and I would listen, enthralled and captivated by the tales I was hearing.

But under the fascinated exterior I felt an awful black hole, a great hollow emptiness that gnawed away inside of me. I knew that there was not even a possibility of going to Hogwarts myself. My father had told me that, as gently as he possibly could, when I was seven years old. I would present a huge danger to the other children and there was no chance that the teachers and governors would deem it suitable to let a werewolf among other, _normal_, children. Even at such a tender age, I was learning how much werewolves were ostracised and shunned by the entire wizarding community.

My mind was unhappy. My body was damaged. And my soul was tainted. Stained with an ugly black scar, which represented the foul creature forever present inside me.

**oOo**

My reflection fades back into my vision, having been temporarily cut out my the nightmares of my past. I lean down onto the sink and put my head in my hands. My chances of a normal life were thrown away the second those teeth pierced my flesh. How can I just go back to my wife and pretend that everything is fine, that I am not going to taint her life with my own, that I can be like any other _normal _husband and father_?_

And yet... difficult though it is to block out the memory of Harry's voice as he glares furiously at me and calls me a coward, other, much more welcome, recollections are starting to form in my mind. Harry, this time sitting next to me in the Weasleys' living room last Christmas, is telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I _am_ normal, that I just have a "problem". Dora is furiously shouting at me, telling me that she doesn't care, her eyes sparkling with tears because I have pushed her away yet again, refusing to accept that such a beautiful young woman could possibly feel that way about me. Molly, motherly as ever, is saying that I should give myself a break. Sirius, as I journey even further back in time, is snorting crossly as I reject his offer to set me up on a date, and Peter is rolling his eyes as I exasperatedly explain why, while Lily tells me very gently that I really need to stop making things so difficult for myself. Finally, James is holding his baby son, the same son that spoke to me so angrily just hours ago, and telling me that one day, I will realise that what I am truly doesn't matter.

Are they right? I have refused to listen to such kind words and arguments for so long now that it has become my automatic response. It is habit now, which makes me continue to deny any good turn in my life because I feel like I don't deserve it, because I believe that it will work out better for everyone if I isolate myself and my problems and steadfastly refuse to let anyone else in. But looking at where I've ended up today, it hasn't done anyone, least of all myself, any good at all.

I study every inch of my reflection again, with less self-loathing but still with an unwillingness to accept the path that I think, deep down, I already know I must take from this day onwards. For now, reluctant as I remain to look towards my future, I let the memories consume me, and focus on my past.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	2. The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

**Summary**: Harry's words cut him deep, but will they have the desired effect? After arguing with his best friends' son and storming out of Grimmauld place, Remus Lupin thinks back over the most poignant moments of his life. Will the long forgotten memories of happier times spent with those he loved and lost be enough to set him back on the right path?

An insight into Remus Lupin's life, his family and his friends, his school days and his work days, his actions and his choices from the day he was bitten to his final, most important decision of all.

All canon pairings. Time frame: Marauders to Book seven

**Disclaimer**: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JK Rowling. Anything else you recognize probably does too, as I tried to make this story fit in with what we know from the books.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 <strong>

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

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><p>Miserable as my transformations made me, I drew all the comfort I could from listening to my fathers' stories. If I couldn't go to Hogwarts myself then hearing about it from him was the next best thing. I learnt about his old friends, his old teachers, his different classes, the rivalries between the houses, the excitement that always seemed to be present in the atmosphere of the school.<p>

My mother, on the other hand, didn't think it was good for me at all. She believed I had become too withdrawn and that hearing these tales would only make me worse. She suggested to my father that I go to an ordinary muggle school, to try and bring me out of my shell. My father, who had started home-schooling me, was not convinced of its uses. He was also very much aware of the perils that my condition held towards other children, both non magical and otherwise, and refused point blank at first, but my mother kept on at him. She said she had no problem with a home-schooled magical education as well, but she argued that I desperately needed friends.

I did. I had always wanted to have real friends, like my father himself had had at school. I longed to go out, to play in the park like I sometimes saw the neighbours' children doing when I looked out of my bedroom window. I always saw them swinging high on the swings, shrieking wildly as they went on the roundabout, or else huddled together in little groups, giggling at each other's jokes and teasing each other fondly.

Unfortunately it didn't work out as my mother and I had hoped. My father relented in the end and my parents sent me to the nearby muggle junior school, but I didn't fit in. The children made fun of me. They laughed at my clothes, at what I looked like and even for the way I spoke. I had not realised before then that my way of speaking differed considerably from the other children in the neighbourhood. I was different, and they refused to accept me as one of them.

I became angry, upset and frustrated, and finally everything came to a head. Humiliated during a maths lesson as I stood at the board, trying desperately to figure out the long multiplication problem, endeavouring without success to block out the taunts and laughs of the more popular children in my class, the piece of chalk I was holding suddenly morphed into a small silver dagger. This sent my classmates into screams of terror, and resulted in an angry letter being sent home to my parents, informing them that I had been in possession of weapons at school, and I would not be welcome back for a week. My father, taking no further chances, removed me from the school for good.

I was not bothered that I could not return to the muggle school, but the incident made my disappointment at not being able to go to Hogwarts even greater than before. It had proved, above all else, that I was magical. It meant that but for that one act of foolishness in my youth and I could have been a wizard. Maybe even become a great warlock like those my father had always told me about, those who were respected by the entire wizarding community, and who won awards from the ministry commending their brave deeds. And now I couldn't even try.

My eleventh birthday passed, and realising that the time when normal magical children of eleven receive their first Hogwarts letters would soon be approaching, I fell into a deep well of gloomy despair. My father, worried, continued to tell me about his own time at the school in an attempt to cheer me up, but my mother soon put a stop to that, resuming her old argument that it couldn't be doing me any good at all.

So the rows between them continued, and my father began to speak to me less and less, and my awful transformations continued to make my life misery. If it hadn't been for the actions of an extremely powerful and unique wizard, my life may have continued in this vein for years.

**oOo**

It was a clear sunny morning at the end of June. The grass was slightly moist from the dew that had settled upon it that night, and I could see the whole ground sparkling as I looked out of my window. The pretty view made my heart feel lighter than it had in weeks and I was even smiling cheerfully as I came downstairs for breakfast, much to my parents' delight.

I will never forget the sight of the handsome tawny owl, which soared in through the open window and dropped a thick yellow envelope onto my lap. It wasn't our owl. Our own family pet was by that time so old that it probably wouldn't have managed to fly to the end of our garden and back, and I didn't know of any other magical families who would be writing to me. Which meant that there had to have been a mistake. I reached down and turned the letter over in my lap, seeing that it was indeed addressed to me. Then, in amazement, I turned it back over, unable to believe that what I thought I had glimpsed on the back was real.

But it was. Stamped on the back of the envelope was a large, red, waxy seal, and as I held it up to my eyes I could make out a crest. I had seen it before, because my father had shown it to me several times. It was the Hogwarts coat of arms.

The room had gone silent, my parents regarding me with watchful eyes. Even the birds outside seemed to cease their singing for a moment, and I could hear my own heart as it thumped loudly under my ribcage.

I opened the envelope, my fingers trembling so hard that I nearly dropped it, and the letter fell out onto the floor. My hands still shaking, I bent to pick it up and fumbled to unfold the thick parchment.

It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
>(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,<br>Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Lupin  
>We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.<br>Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later then July 31st.

Yours sincerely  
>Minerva McGonagall<br>Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

I looked up at my father, my eyes suddenly sparkling with tears of joy, and wordlessly handed him the letter. He took it, also silently, and read it. Then his gaze fell back on me. I looked up at him nervously, the joy slipping from my face under his serious stare.

He shook his head sadly, his eyes sympathetic, but his mouth firmly set. "You know I can't let you go," he said quietly.

I looked at him pleadingly but he merely continued to shake his head. "It's too dangerous," he said. "You know it is."

"But-"

"I'm not prepared to discuss it, Remus, I'm sorry."

I knew that tone of voice, knew that it meant it would be entirely pointless to argue. I felt different tears spring to my eyes, replacing the happy ones that had been present just moments before.

"I'm sorry," my father said again.

Dejected, and bitterly disappointed, I let the empty envelope I was still holding slip to the floor, the tears now spilling down my cheeks. I couldn't believe how close I had come. My hopes had risen to an impossible height, only to be torn down again almost immediately. My father was right, but that didn't make his words any easier to bear as I returned upstairs to my bedroom and threw myself onto my bed.

I refused to come out of my bedroom all day, and that evening, I heard yet again raised voices coming from downstairs. I was about to turn over into my usual position with my hands over my ears when I heard my own name mentioned. Curious, I put my ear to the crack in the floorboards and as I listened I could hear my mother's voice floating up to me, in raised tones.

"You know damn well how much he wanted to go to that school!" she was shouting. "You tell him all these elaborate stories, you make him long for something we all thought was impossible and when he finally gets the chance he's always dreamed of you- you do this."

My father's reply was not heated, merely stated with a wistful sort of calmness.

"There's nothing in the world I'd like more than to let him go," he said. "I know how much he'd enjoy it, and how much he'd get out of it." I heard a small noise as my mother made to interrupt, but he didn't let her.

"But I can't," he said. "It's too dangerous. Imagine if he bit someone, another student for example, during one of his transformations. Would you honestly wish that upon someone else's child?"

My mother's answer was scornful. "Of course not," she retorted. "I wouldn't wish that nightmare on anyone, but the headmaster must have thought of that or he would not have sent the letter. From what you've told me about this Dumbledore, he does not sound like the sort of man to take something like this lightly, and I would think he has given it some consideration."

I heard my father sigh. "Perhaps you should contact him, if you're so worried," she added.

I felt my jaw drop. Whenever my father had spoken of Dumbledore it had always been with awe and admiration. I'd heard of the wizards he had fought, and the wisdom he possessed, the good he'd brought to Hogwarts upon becoming headmaster. The mere thought of approaching him with something this unimportant seemed laughable, but to my great surprise my father grunted in response, before saying, "Well, maybe I will."

No more was said. It took me a long while to go to sleep that night. I did not wish to get my hopes up again, but now I believed that there was perhaps the smallest ray of light at the end of the dark tunnel that had until then been stretching before me.

At the end of the week my father went out and disappeared for the whole day, without saying where he was going. When he returned, I could tell from his expression that he bore good news, and I looked at him enquiringly as he sat down opposite me at the kitchen table.

Apparently the headmaster had met with him at his request, and they had talked for some time about my acceptance to the school. "He is coming here at the weekend to talk to you personally," my father finished, watching my face carefully for my reaction. Dumbledore, possibly the greatest wizard who had ever lived, was coming to talk to me in person. My mouth fell open and my eyes widened in amazement. As I looked at my father and he smiled back at me warmly, I could barely speak.

"Thank you," I managed. Just two simple words, but the look on his face told me that he understood just how much this meant to me.

That Saturday, after Dumbledore's arrival at our house, I entered my own sitting room with trepidation. Dumbledore was seated in the large faded armchair by the fireplace, my father standing beside him. As I entered the room my father left it, nodding at me as he made his exit.

"Come and sit down Remus." Dumbledore's voice was kindly. I nervously did as I was told, trying to take in the wizard's appearance without being so rude as to stare. Two twinkling blue eyes, behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, were set it the wise, lined face, which was framed with a considerable amount of silver grey hair. His mouth was smiling, and this too was partially hidden behind his long silvery beard.

I cautiously sat down on the sofa opposite him. He spoke to me in much warmer and friendlier tones that I had been expecting for someone so powerful and important.

"Your father and I had a very good chat last week Remus. I'm sure you are aware that he is reluctant to let you attend Hogwarts?"

I nodded, a lump in my throat as I desperately hoped that Dumbledore would not share the same view.

"I am, of course, aware of his reasons for this," Dumbledore continued. "However, it is my belief that all young wizards such as yourself should have the right to learn and improve their magic, which is why I chose to ignore certain negative and prejudiced views on your unfortunate condition, and send you your letter."

I nodded again, still very deeply in awe of the great wizard sitting opposite me in the oldest, most faded armchair by the fire.

"I don't agree with prejudices, you see Remus. Why, I myself disregard the frequent discriminatory opinion that I am too old, too wizened and too senile to be in charge of the running of a school!" He beamed at me as he said this, and I, not sure whether I was allowed to laugh, gave a shy little smile.

He chuckled, and then asked me what I knew already about the school.

In that moment I seemed to forget my shyness. I recounted many of the things my father had told me about, the houses, the different classes, and the magnificent grounds. Dumbledore continued to nod and smile at me as I rambled on, only stopping when I noticed my father standing beside me. I had not seen him re-enter the room and all at once felt my nervousness return to me, contenting myself to sitting back and grinning apprehensively.

Dumbledore laughed again. "You have a fine son," he told my father. "You must be proud of him."

I felt myself blush under my father's vaguely pleased gaze, and then looked hopefully at Dumbledore.

"So I can definitely come to Hogwarts?" I asked, thinking that I already knew what the answer was, but unable to relax until I had a definite reply.

"Certainly," he replied, his eyes twinkling as madly as ever. If I had not been so deeply in awe of him I would have hugged him there and then. Instead I just sat their beaming.

"Of course, certain precautions will have to be taken," he continued, his face becoming serious for a minute. "There are risks involved, as I'm sure you are aware, and I will have to ask you, Remus, to follow the rules that I will set in place, to ensure not only others' safety, but yours as well."

I nodded rapturously, not even thinking at the time just how difficult following these rules might prove, once I was at Hogwarts and surrounded by young wizards far more daring and adventurous than myself. All I could think about was how grateful I was to be finally given this opportunity.

For the next few weeks I found it very hard to sleep from sheer excitement, which made a refreshing change from all the nights I had lain awake in terror or unhappiness. All of a sudden everything seemed to be going right, and even my transformations had become slightly more bearable than before. I crossed off the dates impatiently on my calendar, counting down to the day when I would board the Hogwarts Express on platform nine and three quarters and finally be on my way to becoming a wizard.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	3. Humble Beginnings

**Summary**: Harry's words cut him deep, but will they have the desired effect? After arguing with his best friends' son and storming out of Grimmauld place, Remus Lupin thinks back over the most poignant moments of his life. Will the long forgotten memories of happier times spent with those he loved and lost be enough to set him back on the right path?

An insight into Remus Lupin's life, his family and his friends, his school days and his work days, his actions and his choices from the day he was bitten to his final, most important decision of all.

**Disclaimer**: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JK Rowling. Anything else you recognize probably does too.

**A/N** I started this story years ago but have decided to update/completely rewrite it. Character pairings (Lily/James, Remus/Tonks, Harry/Ginny etc) are all canon. Time period is Marauder to Book seven. I tried to fit this story in with what we already know from the books as much as possible

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Humble Beginnings

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><p>I spent most of the journey to Hogwarts absorbed in my books, most of which had either been bought second hand or inherited from my father. We did not have a great deal of money, and therefore pretty much everything I had brought with me was second hand. My cauldron was a little rusted and my robes in particular were faded and worn. This did not bother me, however, as I was so happy to be finally going to school, and I was so immersed in my battered copy of Elementary Charms that I barely noticed the countryside flashing by outside the window or the students who passed by the doors of my compartment, shouting and laughing with one another. I remained alone in my compartment for the whole journey, but for the first time in my life I felt a sense of belonging, and it did not particularly bother me that I had no company. Many hours later I noticed it getting darker outside, changed into my black school robes, and wondered impatiently how long it would be until we arrived at Hogsmeade station.<p>

I didn't have to wait long. Within the next fifteen minutes the train had pulled in, everyone had spilled onto the platform, and all the first years were called over by an enormous man named Hagrid, who took us to the edge of a lake, where we proceeded to board the little rickety boats that were to take us across to the school.

I stood ready to get into a boat that was already occupied by a large, lumpy-looking boy with an extremely round face, behind two other boys who I vaguely remembered seeing on the platform at Kings Cross station when my parents had dropped me off. They were clearly from wizarding families themselves, as I had caught snippets of their conversations about which houses their parents had been in. As I clambered into the boat and squashed up against the side, quite uncomfortable because the large boy was taking up a lot of room, one of them nudged his companion and jerked his head towards us. I felt my cheeks burning, for the first time slightly aware of my shabby appearance which cut such a deep contrast with theirs. Everything about their own appearance was sleek, shiny and brand new, and they were the picture of confidence even on their first day of school. I had a flashback to the taunts during my short time at muggle school and for the first time my good mood was dampened. Even here, at Hogwarts, I didn't think I could bear to go through that again.

However, I was quick to realise that their smirks were not directed at me at all.

"Somebody doesn't look in need of a feast," one of them muttered, flicking his eye over he other boy's bulk.

"Good thing these are magical boats or we'd capsize!" replied the other, and I turned away, torn, as they sniggered. I was relieved to find out that I was not the target and somewhat amused by what they had said, but also indignant on the other boy's behalf, and I couldn't help hoping fervently that the boys' cutting remarks would never be directed at me.

This was, although I did not know it, to be my first of many encounters with that particular mix of emotions, and even many years later I was never able to decide whether amusement or disapproval should triumph in the face of the boys' blunt and mocking humour. At the time, the feeling soon passed as the boats pulled round a cliff face, and we got our first glimpse of the castle. There were many gasps around me, and I could tell that I was not the only one awed by such a magnificent sight. Once the boats had pulled in, and we had all trooped up to the great doors of the castle, we were met by a stern faced witch who told us we were to be sorted into houses shortly.

I knew how this was done, because my father had told me about the sorting hat, but judging by the worried murmurs and whispers, there were many people who did not know. In front of me, I noticed the two boys who had been in the boat merrily tormenting a very small, plump, mousy-looking boy, who had been nervously wondering aloud what we would have to do.

"One year, first years had to fight a giant eight-eyed spider using only their wands and a piece of old rope," one of them said, his eyes gleaming with fun. "And if they didn't manage to kill it within three minutes they weren't put in any house at all!" I was, once again, amused, but felt a rush of sympathy for the other boy, who gave a little squeak and now looked positively faint with terror.

It must have been a huge relief to him, and many other children who had been told similar stories, when Professor McGonagall explained briefly what the sorting consisted of, and we were called up one by one to try on the hat. I was too apprehensive to take in who was being sorted, though I noticed that one of the rascals in front of me, Sirius Black, as well as the fat boy who I had been sat next to in the boat, were both sorted into Gryffindor.

When my name was called I walked fearfully up to the three legged stool, sat down, and caught a glimpse of about a thousand faces staring up at me, before the hat was placed on my head, and my world went black as it fell over my eyes.

"Let me see," I heard a voice say, "Rather tricky this one, intelligent, most definitely, and certainly courageous, but with a darker past, oh dear me yes. A very dark past indeed."

At this I felt my whole body tense. I knew that the teachers were aware of my problem, but Dumbledore had assured me that the knowledge would be kept from the other students. I did not wish to be shunned by the other children before they had even met me, and I felt a knot of fear build in my stomach, which was immediately loosened by the hat's next words.

"Relax," it said. "Secrets regarding students are never passed from me to anyone else, my boy, you have no reason to fear." There was a brief pause, before the hat said, "And I think, on the whole, you would be best off in Gryffindor!"

I felt my stomach relax completely, as the last word was shouted to the entire hall. I was in the same house as my father. He would definitely be proud of me. My legs felt like jelly as I got off the stool and walked to the Gryffindor house table, taking my place opposite the round-faced boy who had been sorted not long before me.

Now that the initial fear was over, I found it much easier and much more enjoyable to watch the remaining students sorted into their houses. Mary Macdonald joined the Gryffindor table immediately after me. Peter Pettigrew, now looking very slightly happier at the news that no spiders were involved in the process, was also sorted into Gryffindor, and was followed there by the other boy who had been in my boat, whose name I discovered was James Potter. I noticed that the hat sat a long while on Peter's head before making it's decision, whereas it wasn't on James' long enough to fully cover his eyes. Both boys joined the house table, James sitting next to his mischievous friend and Peter sliding nervously into the seat opposite them. James winked at Sirius before turning to Peter and saying, "Got you scared, didn't we?" As Peter smiled uneasily, clearly unsure what to make of the two grinning faces opposite him, I realised that the sorting had just finished, and that food had appeared in front of us.

I didn't know of course, as I started piling my plate with chicken, that James, Peter and Sirius were to become my very first and very best friends. I couldn't possibly have known or even imagined that then, because every word that left the two boys' mouths was spoken boldly, without hesitation, and as I watched Peter sit there and listen in a sort of awed silence, my immediate thought was that two such confident young people couldn't possibly want to be friends with me.

At one point James looked up from his conversation and, glancing along the row, seemed to grin at me. About to smile back, I was wrong-footed by the appreciative look in his eyes and, turning very slightly to my left, I noticed an extremely pretty and vivacious red-headed girl sitting next to me. She was talking animatedly with Mary Macdonald and some of the other Gryffindor girls, her bright curls bouncing and her green eyes sparkling, and seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was attracting more than one admiring look.

Thankfully avoiding making a fool of myself by grinning back at James, I turned away and addressed instead the only other Gryffindor boy to have just been sorted. He introduced himself as Davey Gudgeon, and, between mouthfuls of food, told me that his mother was a witch, but his father was non-magical, and boasted that he had always known he would come to Hogwarts, in spite of his part-muggle heritage, because at three years old he had picked up his father's wand and managed to set his whole house on fire.

I had a feeling that this story was exaggerated, but not wanting to appear doubtful in case I offended him, I just nodded in a comprehending sort of way, and, in turn, told him how my father had been the magical one of my parents, how he had been to Hogwarts, and how I had always wanted to come too, being careful to leave out, of course, any details regarding my condition.

Davey did not seem particularly interested in what I was saying, and his attention waned considerably after the appearance of the desserts. His conversation dwindled to grunts and nods, and I was fast running out of things to say, so after a bit, while Davey helped himself to a fourth helping of chocolate cake, I, too full to manage anymore, simply stared around the hall, the conversation around me becoming muddled and merging into a sort of hum as I grew sleepier and sleepier. I did not even notice the dormitory that was to be my home for the next seven years when we were lead upstairs a short while later, and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

It took me while to remember where I was the next morning, and when I did, half afraid that coming to Hogwarts had all been a dream, I needed to sit up very quickly and take in my surroundings.

Peter were still snoring peacefully in his four-poster bed, but James and his friend were sitting up in their pyjamas talking, and Davey, already dressed and perched right on the edge of his bed, was trying rather unsuccessfully to listen to their conversation without appearing interested. I couldn't help noticing that they were very deliberately ignoring him.

I caught James' eye. He grinned at me cheerfully, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and ran his hand through it to make it even messier before speaking.

"Hi," he said. "I'm James, this is Sirius." He gestured to the boy in the bed next to him, who nodded to me with a smile. They didn't bother introducing Davey, so I gathered that they had not got off to a very good start.

"Well, don't you have a tongue?" Sirius asked impatiently, as I tried to think of something to say. "Who are you?" Feeling idiotic, I introduced myself hurriedly and they both grinned again.

"We'd better all get up or we'll be late for breakfast," Sirius said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning widely.

James nodded, then chucked his pillow at the lump that was Peter, still buried under the blankets in his bed. "Oy get up, lazy," he said. Peter's face wore a rather bemused expression as his head emerged from under the covers, his hair rumpled and his eyes screwed up against the light that was now pouring in through the large windows, but he managed to get up and dressed with surprising speed, and I was still trying to find my socks when he followed James and Sirius out of the dormitory, tucking his shirt in frantically as he tried to keep up with them.

"See you later," James said to me. I nodded rather shyly and turned to see if Davey would wait for me, but he lumbered after the others. I found my socks at last, and made my way to the Great Hall for breakfast, before proceeding to lessons, establishing the routine that was to become my life for the next seven years.

Our first lesson, Potions, did not turn out to be a great success, and after a mere fifteen minutes of struggling to brew an acceptable concoction I realised that Potions was going to be by far my worst subject, a realisation that became more and more apparent over the following weeks. Professor Slughorn, although kind and not in any way impatient, often looked at my work with an air of faint despair.

Professor Slughorn was a teacher of great favouritism. He took a shine to both Sirius and James, who excelled at everything without any apparent effort at all, but his two absolute favourites were Lily Evans, the girl James had taken a shine to on our first evening, and Severus Snape, a greasy-haired, twitchy Slytherin pupil, who was a genius with potions even at such an early age. The two, for reasons that no one in our house seemed able to fathom, sat next to each other every potions lesson and were often seen talking and laughing together as they worked, much to James' annoyance. I didn't speak to him much at that point, as I was too shy to interact with the boys in my dormitory and they appeared to think I wasn't interested in them. Nevertheless, it was already common knowledge that James had a soft spot for Lily who, unfortunately for him, remained unimpressed by his confident manner and the humour that most people seemed to find amusing. As for Snape, he and James had almost immediately become enemies after James had "accidentally" tripped him up while we were filing into our first Transfiguration class. The hatred between them had been tangible ever since, and James often seethed in Potions class at the sight of Lily sitting next to his arch enemy.

As for me, I sat alone in potions. In fact, I sat alone in quite a few lessons, and spent a lot of my spare time in the library, but even that didn't particularly bother me, because I was still so much enjoying the vibrant atmosphere of the school that differed so considerably from my small, quiet, dingy bedroom in the isolated little house where I had spent the lonely years of my childhood.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	4. Three New Friends

**Summary**: Harry's words cut him deep, but will they have the desired effect? After arguing with his best friends' son and storming out of Grimmauld place, Remus Lupin thinks back over the most poignant moments of his life. Will the long forgotten memories of happier times spent with those he loved and lost be enough to set him back on the right path?

An insight into Remus Lupin's life, his family and his friends, his school days and his work days,his actions and his choices from the day he was bitten to his final, most important decision of all.

**Disclaimer**: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JK Rowling. Anything else you recognize probably does too.

**A/N** I started this story years ago but have decided to update/completely rewrite it. Character pairings (Lily/James, Remus/Tonks, Harry/Ginny etc) are all canon. Time period is Marauder to Book seven. I tried to fit this story in with what we already know from the books as much as possible.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Three New Friends

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><p>My lack of Potions skill was so pronounced that the sight of my cauldron boiling dry, issuing clouds of smoke, or spitting sparks became a regular occurrence every Monday and Friday morning in the Potions lab. Eventually, after my poorly attempted Throat-Soothing solution resulted in a bubbling red substance that no one would have even touched, let alone poured down their throat, but that did succeed in gouging a black, charred hole in the neighbouring, and thankfully empty, desk, Slughorn gently suggested that someone sit next to me "to provide a little assistance". His eyes roamed the room and fell on the desk where Lily and Snape sat stirring their own, beautifully pink and smooth-surfaced, solutions. My insides clenched at the very idea of sitting next to Snape, but Slughorn had different ideas. "Perhaps Miss Evans would be so kind?" he suggested with a wide smile.<p>

My intense relief was short-lived. Lily came over willingly with no hint of either resentment or trepidation, something which I had to commend her on, given the state of my neighbouring desk.

"You're brave!" I muttered, gesturing to the blackened surface of the wood in front of us, but Lily just laughed.

"I'll wear fireproof clothing next lesson," she joked. As I smiled back, however, I caught Snape's eye. The cold black stones stared at me furiously and pure hatred was issuing from every pore in his body. I realised that if Snape had disliked me before simply on the basis that I was a Gryffindor, he now absolutely detested me, and I'm fairly certain he was never able to forgive me for taking Lily away from that day forward.

I was also worried how James would react. The last thing I wanted was to make two enemies in one day and I feared he might be jealous that I was now sitting next to the girl he liked so much. However, as Lily was now two desks closer to him than she had been before and no longer able to chatter to Snape throughout the lesson, he seemed quite pleased with the new seating arrangements.

Potions immediately became more enjoyable now I had someone sitting next to me, but I wasn't much closer to making any real friends. Lily was kind, friendly and helpful, but as she was also immensely popular and already had a wide circle of friends, our communication was limited to the time we spent together in potions. In between classes, I spent most of the time in the library, reading various books that interested me, trying to broaden my knowledge of the different subjects. For a while, I was completely on my own, although as time went on I was joined by Davey, who had been given the cold shoulder by the other three boys in our dormitory.

It was quite easy to see why. While Peter simply followed James and Sirius around, copying everything they did in an attempt to keep up with them, which must have been flattering, if a little annoying, Davey tried to give the illusion that he was better than everyone else. He would boast in an effort to impress and when he saw that he was impressing nobody, his boasting would turn to malice, and he would simply insult people in an attempt to make others laugh. Without a great deal of success.

So the other three, or more likely the other two, with Peter just agreeing with them as always, ignored him until he left them alone, and he took to joining me in the library instead, munching on chocolate, sweets and other various goodies, not studying, but often moaning about the three boys in my ear as I attempted to read in silence.

I did not agree with what he said about them, but I did not feel able to argue. After all, I had so badly wanted friends, and Davey was the nearest thing to a friend I had ever had, even though I knew deep down that it was only due to his lack of success with the others, and that I was very much a last resort. Even so, I could not feel the same way about the others as he did. I admired James and Sirius greatly, and although I had little desire I follow them everywhere in the senseless way that Peter did, I felt, in my heart, that I would like to get to know them better.

Davey became more irritating as time went by. He was surprisingly a very daring character, which was no doubt why the sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor, but it was not the kind of spirited boldness that embodied Sirius and James, who, even as lowly first years, were fast becoming recognized as the school troublemakers. Davey's attempted antics - sneaking out at night or trying to steal food from the kitchens - simply came across as an attempt to outdo them, and when he did not succeed in gaining the same level of respect and admiration as they did, he became bitter and even more petty, rapidly losing interest in me when I refused to participate in his long rants about the other Gryffindor boys.

He occasionally suggested that we were indeed friends, but I was sure that he knew almost nothing about me, and I was disappointed and dispirited, because I had hoped that when I came to Hogwarts I would meet people who I could confide in and who would want to get to know me. He didn't even seem to notice when I was off sick for two days at each full moon, and although relieved I did not have to make up excuses or lie to him, it was not at all how I had imagined having a friend would be. I was not, however, in I good position to pick and choose. My mother, in recent letters, had been asking if I had made any friends. I could tell that she was more worried about me than she was letting on, and so in my next letter home I assured her that I had indeed made friends with one of the other boys in my house, whose name was Davey.

It may have gone on forever, as I was not frank enough to tell him to "get lost", which is what the others must had done, had I not got on the wrong side of two large Slytherin third years, a couple of months into my first term at Hogwarts.

I had just been to the hospital wing to heal several large welts on my left knee - a result of my most recent transformation - and not paying attention to where I was going, I ran smack into one of them. Neither one of them were pleasant to look at, and judging by his nasty expression, the one I had hit was not at all pleased about nearly being mown down an ignorant and apparently blind first year.

Their reaction was nasty: they first enquired why I could not look where I was going, then, after realising that I was in Gryffindor, made several unkind cracks at the poor state of my robes, and asked if I were a Mudblood, an extremely offensive term used to describe muggle-borns. Realising that no good could really come of telling them that I was actually a half-blood, I mumbled something indistinctly and attempted to back away. Neither had pulled out their wands, but I could also see it would take little more than a swing from one of their balled fists to send me flying, and I was proved right. It was not a particularly hard blow, and in previous years I had experienced far worse pain, but it was enough to throw me off balance, and I landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

James, Sirius and Peter happened to be coming along the corridor at that moment, James and Sirius in front as usual, with Peter tagging along behind, and, seeing what was happening, Sirius and James pulled out their wands. The two Slytherins hastily started backing away and James glared at them.

"Why don't you go and pick on someone your own size?" he demanded. "If you can find anyone, that is," he added, casting a critical eye over the boys' bulky forms. I saw a worried look pass between the two Slytherins. James and Sirius had already built up quite a reputation for being extremely good at jinxes, and the other boys fists would be of no use to them against their prodigious magical ability. Muttering crossly, they turned and retreated down the corridor.

By this time I had got to my feet, and was dusting the dirt off my worn out robes. James turned to me with raised eyebrows. "You all right?" he asked.

I nodded nervously, embarrassed at being found in such a predicament. "They're greasy gits," Sirius said darkly. "They're friends of Snape's. He gets them to do all kinds of dirty work for him." He looked at me with a slightly bemused expression.

"What happened?" he asked curiously

"Oh, nothing," I said quickly, not wanting them to know the whole humiliating story. "Er thanks," I added. "For –you know." I waved my hand awkwardly. The two boys shrugged. "Don't mention it," Sirius said.

"Anyway, I'd better go, I said I'd meet Davey before class," I said hurriedly. About to turn away, I saw a swift incredulous look pass between the two, before James enquired bluntly, "do you actually like him?"

My honest answer would have been no, but fearing that if I said this then Davey would hear about it, I contented myself to shrugging my shoulders.

"We don't," Sirius said crudely. "Annoying idiot, always trying to make out he's better than everyone else." James nodded in agreement and Peter tittered shrilly.

I hung my head, even more embarrassed. "I don't really like him," I admitted, "And he's only hanging around with me because no one else will put up with him. He as good as told me that they other day."

To my surprise they looked a bit guilty. It wasn't the reaction I had been expecting. I had been waiting for them to laugh at my feebleness at not being able to get rid of him as efficiently as they had. Then James spoke.

"Look, you're welcome to hang out with us instead if you want," he said. "We didn't mean for him to latch himself onto you, honestly, we just wanted to get him out of our hair, you know..."

I nodded, feeling considerably happier, but also feeling that I wouldn't dare stay too much around them for fear of bothering them. I felt that I was meek, and feeble, and they were confident and daring. There was nothing about me that could really interest them, and I did not want them to feel like they had to take notice of me out of sheer pity.

At first it was as I had thought, and I didn't dare to approach them, choosing to stay with Davey instead. One afternoon, however, Davey had gone off with a group of Hufflepuff second years, informing me that he was going to talk about "things that didn't concern me" and I was sitting outside with a book feeling both indignant and a little forlorn, when I saw Sirius, James and Peter lazing on the grass at the edge of the forest, making the most of the fast-fading autumn sunlight, and wondered if James had meant what he said about me joining up with them. Deciding I could hardly be any worse off than I already was, I packed up my book and headed over towards them, my insides squirming with nerves.

My feeling of immense trepidation was short lived. Sirius looked up at me as I approached and, without so much a hint of curiosity at what I was doing there said, "Hey Remus, what do you reckon the chances are of Lily going out with James in the next seven years?"

Unsure what to say, I nevertheless took this as a sign that I was quite welcome to sit with them, and Sirius, laying his head back down in the grass and looking craftily at James, said "Because I think, personally, that he doesn't have a shot in hell."

"I'll be holding you to that, Mr Black," James said with a determined grin. "What about you Remus, any girls caught your eye?"

And that was that. My reply to his first question was a little embarrassed of course, but from the moment I had my first proper conversation with the three of them, I felt more at home than I have ever felt in my life. There were no awkward pauses or strained silences, no long rants and vicious remarks that had become the norm when I spoke to Davey, just good-natured conversation and light-hearted teasing.

Davey was noticeably put out the next day when James told me to switch seats in class and sit in the vacant spot next to Peter, but I decided that I didn't have any reason to feel bad, and did as he instructed. This seemed to cement the friendship and from that moment on, the four of us were inseparable. I was able to write to my mother again, this time telling her that I had made three new friends, that I was having a lot of fun, and that I was doing fine. Her reply was instant and relieved. I don't think she had ever really been reassured by the rather feeble description that I'd given of my friendship with Davey, and she was thankful that I finally seemed to be settling in properly.

The holidays were fast approaching and, like me, my three new friends were returning home for Christmas. On the last day of term, when we boarded the train to go home, my inside feeling was one of delight, for I realised that when the new term came, I would not be returning to classes with the feeling that I had no real friends, nor to the dread of facing each day with only Davey to whisper poisonous or snide remarks in my ear.

I would instead be returning to three great friends. I didn't know at the time just what a great friendship it would turn out to be, but I was happy to know that for the first time in my life, I actually belonged somewhere.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	5. Truth, Tree and Trouble Soon To Come

**Summary**: See previous chapters.

**Disclaimer**: All characters mentioned in this story belong to JK Rowling. Anything else you recognize probably does too.

**A/N** Haven't had any reviews yet but I'm hoping people are enjoying the story anyway. Please let me know what you think :) !

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

The Truth, The Tree and The Trouble Soon To Come

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><p>The next seven years were to hold some of the most enjoyable, most exciting and most adventurous times of my life, now that I had friends, particularly friends like James and Sirius, who were by far the most entertaining people I had ever met. The jokes and tricks they played, although often at other people's expense, were undeniably amusing, and Peter and I were always included as part of them.<p>

Then there was the delight of sneaking out at night. James had shown us his invisibility cloak, which he had inherited from his father, and all four of us would spend more nights out of our beds than we did in them, exploring the castle and the grounds, finding hidden rooms, secret tunnels and deserted passageways. The trouble that we may have got into without the cloak was, at the time, laughable. We soon lost count of the number of times we managed to pull it over ourselves just before a caretaker or professor found us lurking in the dark, deserted corridors when we should have been in bed. This was just as well, because we got into quite enough trouble in the day without being caught out of bounds at night as well. There was not a week that passed when Sirius and James did not receive detention and more often than not they were joined by Peter and myself. Even then, we would find things to laugh about, and not even my parents' sternly worded letter upon hearing of my new-found rule breaking attitude was enough to dampen my spirits.

There was still, however, the issue of the barrier between us. In spite of everything I had learnt about them, everything they had learnt about me, and all the fun we were having together, I could not bring myself to confess to them that I was a werewolf. I was desperately afraid that they would shun me and desert me if they knew about the monster I became every full moon, and so I tried to conceal it completely from them. It wasn't easy, and it soon proved impossible to hide the fact that I mysteriously vanished once every month. They were more intelligent and more interested in me than Davey had been, and so they couldn't fail to remark on my frequent disappearances.

I thought up various excuses, being as inventive as possible, telling them that I had to go home because my grandmother had died, or because my father was ill, but gradually they became more and more suspicious. It appeared that our friendship would be challenged whatever I decided to do. They knew that I was hiding something and I was scared it was only a matter of time before they either dropped me in exasperation for my apparent lack of trust in them, or found out the truth and refused to have anything more to do with me because of what I was.

I knew that I should tell them. I knew they would probably work it out anyway and there were times when I came close to revealing everything, when the words were on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't do it, and in the end they took matters into their own hands.

**oOo**

They finally worked out the truth right at the start of our second year. It was the morning after the full moon, and I had just had my habitual check up with the nurse before returning to my dormitory from the hospital wing to get my books for class. I was on the brink of entering the room when I heard my friends' voices and paused at the door.

"I don't believe it," James was saying quietly.

"It makes complete sense though, doesn't it?" Sirius replied softly.

There was a pause, and then Peter's voice piped up, "I don't get it, what does it mean?"

I heard the other two sigh in exasperation. "Do we literally have to spell _everything _out for you?" James said irritably. "He disappears on the night of every full moon, telling us he has to see family, or he isn't well, or some other made up excuse. He often returns with scars or bruises or cuts, which he tries to hide. And now we've found these-" his voice broke off as I opened the door of the dormitory.

All three faces turned towards me. Sirius dropped what he was holding as if it had burned him and as my eyes fell on what had just fallen out of his hand onto the floor, my blood ran cold. It was the envelope where I kept all the letters from my parents, and several of them had been taken out. It seemed that my friends had taken advantage of my absence that morning and had looked through my belongings so as to try and find some clue to solving the mystery of my strange behaviour. I thought back to my correspondence with my parents and remembered that my most recent letter from my mother contained quite a bit more than a clue. She had enclosed a Daily Prophet article on Lycanthropy and possible leads to a cure._I thought you might find this interesting_, she had written, _I know we were always told there wasn't a cure but that doesn't mean there never will be, so don't lose hope._

There was absolutely no denying it. I did not even see the point of being indignant that my friends had taken it upon themselves to go through my private possessions. After all, I had lied to them and been secretive with them first. Nevertheless, my heart was thumping loudly in my chest as I looked back them. I had known, deep down, that this day would come. I had just hoped it would not be for another long while.

James looked at me, the only one who could look me directly in the eye. "Were you ever going to tell us?" he inquired calmly.

Sirius regained his composure pretty quickly and spoke too, rather angrily. "Yeah!" he said, "Aren't we your friends? Don't you trust us? Dear god, you know all our secrets, perhaps even a little too much about some of them." He looked amusedly at James, as this was a clear jibe at his obsession with Lily, but he only received a scowl in return.

I hung my head, a deep flush creeping up my cheeks. "I do trust you. I just thought- that if you knew- that-," I stammered.

"What? That we wouldn't want to be your friends any more?" James asked disbelievingly. "I thought you knew us better than that," he added in disgust, seeing my expression of confirmation.

"You really thought that?" Sirius persisted. I nodded. "Don't you care?" I burst out, desperate to know where I now stood with them.

Sirius looked outraged. "Of course we care!" he exclaimed. "Well," he clarified, "we care that you didn't tell us, and we care if you're getting hurt."

"Right," said James, "but we're not going to desert you because of what you are, if that's what you thought."

I could barely speak. I had honestly believed that the second my secret was out I would once again be friendless and alone, like I had felt my entire childhood, and yet I had clearly been mistaken. I opened my mouth, trying to express how grateful I was, but I didn't get a chance, because Sirius shook his head with a sigh. "Honestly Remus, I though _you_ had a brain. Sometimes I wonder if you have any more sense that Idiot here." Idiot was the term he used to describe Peter, meant more in fondness and affection than in unkindness. Peter, in any case, didn't take offence at it. He smiled in his normal nervous way at Sirius's words, his face telling me that he was in complete agreement.

James took a step towards me. I flinched, thinking he might do something, but he merely looked me straight in the eye and asked, "There isn't anything else you've been keeping from us is there?"

"Yeah, like you're actually a mass murderer from the future, on the run from aurors, and you're afraid that if we find out we'll send you back to your own time and claim the thousand galleon reward for finding you?" Sirius suggested flippantly.

I smiled uncertainly, but the other two were laughing. The tension in the room was broken in an instant and from that day the invisible barrier was removed. My friends had not deserted me, as I had feared they would. They had supported me in every possible way, and now they were able to cover for me, because they had not been the only ones getting suspicious of my frequent disappearances. Gradually people were beginning to notice and even Davey had remarked on my latest absence at supper one night.

My friends had been thoroughly enjoying making stories to explain my absences, being far more inventive than I had been, and telling a different tale each time somebody asked. On that particular occasion I had been present, but Sirius had cut in before I could answer Davey myself.

"Of course he wasn't here, you useless moron," he said scathingly. "I thought everyone knew by now, he works for the minister for magic himself."

"And every month he has to go to top secret and highly confidential meetings," broke in James.

"To prevent the wizarding world from total devastation and corruption," Sirius finished dramatically, upon which Davey snorted crossly, and returned to his loaded bowl of apple pie.

Thankfully people began to take it for granted that I was absent from school every four weeks. I am still sometimes incredulous that people failed to notice that it was every full moon, thus deducing what this meant, but it was all to my advantage, and in all my time at Hogwarts, I'm pretty sure only two other students found out about me, the first of whom became one of my closest and dearest friends, and the second of whom, I'm afraid to say, became the complete opposite.

**oOo**

People were also very interested in the Whomping Willow, the tree that had been planted to ensure that I remained alone and undisturbed in the secret house while I transformed. No one except my three friends and myself knew of the hidden passage concealed behind its wildly flailing branches, and I was the only one to have ever set foot in it, but the tree caused a particular stir in my first year because it was new to the school and the grounds. People invented different games: one consisted of trying to grab one of the flailing branches and staying aboard for as long as possible. Another was simply trying to get near enough to touch the trunk of the tree. Almost all the younger students played around it frequently, in spite of various warnings given to us by the staff.

Not long before the Christmas holidays of our second year, Peter and I were sitting on the frozen steps leading up to the castle, watching several other students trying to dodge the branches and touch the trunk of the great tree. Sirius and James were both in detention, and without them we were rather short of things to do.

I was only half seeing the scene before my eyes. The games had never particularly interested me; mainly because of the association the tree had with my transformations, and also because I knew that all you had to do was touch the knob on the trunk of the tree with a long stick and it would become as still as stone anyway. Peter, however, was watching avidly. He had always been intrigued by the games, but never brave enough to attempt them himself, or perhaps it was simply because he wanted to be like James and Sirius, who felt, as I did, that it was a waste of time. As my mind wandered further and further afield, Peter's attention remained fixed on the actions of the other children, and he suddenly gave a horrified gasp. Shaken out of my reverie I followed his petrified gaze, and saw a crowd of children had formed around a figure lying motionless on the ground. We got up and approached them nervously.

"Stupid idiot," someone was saying, "Should have ducked when that branch came swinging round, not tried to grab hold of it."

"He was trying to impress," said another voice scornfully. "As usual."

Someone moved in the crowd, and Peter and I got a clear view of the person on the ground. There was blood trickling from a very mangled face onto the frozen earth, and as Peter gave another horrified squeal, my heart leapt in shock as I recognized the plump features of none other than Davey Gudgeon. Within the next few minutes, two teachers had arrived and he had been magically lifted onto a stretcher and transported to the hospital wing.

Later that day, we learnt that he would make a full recovery in time, but that he had been lucky not to lose his eye. What's more, he had gone home, and would not be returning to Hogwarts. His father, a muggle-born, furious at how the magical world could have easily killed his only son, had removed him from the school, and had expressed angrily that his son would not be back. Dumbledore, his blue eyes grave and his expression unsmiling, expressly forbade anyone to go near the tree, and after what had happened, nobody really wanted to.

The accident cast a rather dull cloud over people for the next few days, but Davey had not been very popular, so it was soon forgotten. Accidents often happened at Hogwarts and wizard parents were aware that their children would likely sustain some form of injury over the course of their education. It was far rarer for someone to be removed from the school because of them, but it was accepted that non-magical parents would have different views on the matter.

I could not forget the incident quite so easily. I had never been a true friend of Davey's, but I had always felt a slight amount of guilt for excluding him after my first term at school. He had been completely left out from our group and although I had never wanted him hanging around, I had still always felt slightly uncomfortable, because I knew what it was like to feel friendless. There was the added issue that if it had not been for me, the Whomping Willow would have never been planted in the first place, and therefore the games would have never been played and no one would have been hurt at all.

My friends were brisk with my worries.

"It wasn't your fault," James said dismissively. "He was always showing off, if it hadn't been this then it would have been something else." Sirius and Peter agreed with him, but I still felt gloomy. To make matters worse, the full moon was once again approaching, and in spite of my friends' support, I still dreaded the nights I spent alone in the desolate and lonely house at the end of the tunnel.

I didn't mean to say this thought out loud, but they were always so sympathetic that I couldn't help it. The moment the words had left my mouth I immediately wished I hadn't said anything, because there was, after all, nothing more that they could do to help me, but to my surprise Sirius and James shared a quick look before James spoke.

"We were worried about that," he said. "And we think we've found a solution. A way of being with you when you transform."

I stared at him blankly. I was used to their mad schemes, but I also thought that there was no way I was going to let my friends endanger their lives, just for me.

Sirius glanced at James and he continued. "We were talking about it the other day when we were in detention," he said. "And we reckon we've found a way of keeping you company, and staying safe at the same time. It'll take a while to do though."

I waited. Sirius grinned. "We can learn how to become animagi," he said.

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	6. An Animagus Success

**Summary: **See Previous chapters

**Disclaimer: **All characters and anything else familiar belongs to JK Rowling.

**A/N** Thanks to those who reviewed! (Uploaded this chapter last night and then realised it was the wrong version so apologies if people have already read it.)

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

An Animagus Success

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><p>"How many times are we going to go through this? I'm not going to let you risk your lives for me!"<p>

Almost exactly two years on from Davey's mishap with the tree, the four of us were sitting outside on the exact same step, a small portable fire next to us to keep us warm. Two years in which James, Sirius and Peter had, despite my frequent objections, dedicated almost all their spare time into researching how to become animagi. This hadn't been easy. Locating the instructions had been difficult enough, as they were in the restricted section of the library, and it had taken several nights of invisible exploring to find what they were looking for. They were now apparently at the stage where they had almost done enough research and were able to start attempting the transformation itself, but I was still refusing to acknowledge what they were planning to do if that became a reality. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate what they wanted to do. On the contrary, I was touched that they were willing do go to such great lengths to help me, but I was still terribly afraid of endangering their lives. They had told me that if they were animals then I could be of no danger to them, but I knew it was still a very risky idea, and if I caused any one of them any harm I would not be able to live with myself afterwards. And what about my word to Dumbledore? I had assured him that I would obey his rules.

There were also dangers involved in the animagus transformation itself, which was one of the most advanced branches of magic in existence and I knew that one slip, one mistake, and it could go horribly wrong. We had studied animagi many a time in Transfiguration and heard about certain inept wizards or witches who had performed the transformation both illegally and inexpertly. Professor McGonagall had shown us pictures of people who had sprouted several extra heads, grown permanent animal limbs, and one particularly gruesome photo of a young witch who had managed to transform herself into a field mouse, but had not properly studied how to transform back again, and, unable to regain her human form when necessary, had been brutally attacked by a bald eagle. Several of the girls had let out horrified squeals as the image of her mangled body, finally returned too late to its human form, was shown to the class, and I felt that they had every right to do so.

In my opinion, this was enough to make anyone think twice before attempting to become animagi, but Sirius and James were bold, daring and irrepressible, and not in any way put off by these nasty stories. Peter always blanched a little when the subject of the transformations going wrong was mentioned, but he was so intent on being like his two idols that he did not raise any objections either.

As I protested, Sirius turned to me in exasperation. "Look," he said, "you hate being alone on the full moon, we know you do! We can see how miserable you get the week before. And then the week after you're always covered in bruises and cuts. If we were with you as animals it would eliminate both problems! And think how much fun we'll have at the same time!"

"I don't care Sirius." I was set on this. I went along with all kinds of mischief where James and Sirius were concerned but this was different. This would be entirely on my own head if they got hurt.

"You don't object to most of the stuff we get up to, why should this be any different?" James asked, as if he had read my mind.

"Because that stuff doesn't involve roaming the grounds with a werewolf," I replied with a laugh, "and because you'd do it anyway whether I went along with it or not, so I might as well join in the fun!"

I saw a grin pass between the two and knew I'd said the wrong thing.

"Quite right you are!" James exclaimed.

"We might as well get on with it and persuade you later," agreed Sirius.

I groaned, but my two friends had already jumped up and headed inside, followed by Peter.

**oOo**

I decided to give up on dissuading my friends for the time being and turn my attention to more imminent issues, such as studying for our OWLs, avoiding detention, and dealing with the general pressures that came with moving through adolescence. We were growing up (not necessarily getting more mature, granted, but we were nonetheless getting older), and experiencing the consequences of this. Sirius, over our first few years at school, had become incredibly handsome, and consequently attracted a considerable amount of female attention. We lost count of how many actual girlfriends he had over the years, but his number of admirers appeared to be infinite, and he went to great lengths to try and avoid the throngs of adoring girls, ranging from first year to seventh, something the rest of us took great pleasure in teasing him about.

We were struggling through a mountain of homework one evening, when he came back to the common room looking flushed and irritable.

"I swear," he said furiously. "If I get followed around by a mindless, giggling, idiotic girl one more time I'll – I'll - I'll -"

"You'll finish your sentence?" James suggested cheekily, looking up from his potions essay, which he had finished some time ago, and which was now covered in ink hearts enclosing Lily's initials. Recently all of his essays had been handed in this way. I was positive he did it on purpose, hoping that one of the teachers would comment on it, and that Lily would notice and somehow forget all the bad feelings she held towards him. So far, to his great annoyance, none of them had, although several had remarked on his lack of presentation skills and a couple had even deducted marks because of it. James did not appear too bothered about this however, returning to his essay and drawing several more hearts on the few inches of parchment that were not already covered in squiggles of black ink.

Sirius scowled. "I know you all think it's tremendously funny," he said, looking round at the three of us. "But wait until it happens to you."

I laughed a little uncomfortably. We both knew there was no danger of it happening to me. I deliberately shied away from getting close to anyone other than my three best friends, too afraid that someone would find out about my secret, and that it would be spread around the entire school. I was particularly awkward with girls, and, as far as I knew, had not attracted so much as an admiring look or whisper during my first four years at Hogwarts.

"Well, I won't hold my breath," I told Sirius dryly. Peter was biting his lip, clearly feeling the same way. James however, sat a little further back in his chair, put his feet on the table, and grinned.

"I'm not sure I'd be complaining myself."

Sirius's scowl deepened. "I think you would," he said darkly. "Especially if one actually tried to follow you into the boys' bathroom."

At this James let out a snort of mirth. Next to me, Peter imitated him and I fought desperately to keep a straight face.

"So who was it this time?" James asked, once he was able to draw breath. "That first year who waved at you this morning at breakfast and then fell off the bench in embarrassment? Or was it that fourth year from Ravenclaw who looks like she's been hit in the nose by a bludger?"

I started laughing as well. Sirius glared at us. "Oh shut up," he snapped. "You'll see what I mean one day, and then you won't find it nearly so funny. Especially you," he added, glowering at James. "I know several girls who've got their eye on you, so you might want to watch it." James just shrugged, and inked another "L.E" at the bottom of his parchment.

It was true that James did receive his fair share of attention, being just as popular and almost as good-looking as Sirius, but although he had the odd fling throughout our years at school, none of them ever lasted very long, and he remained completely preoccupied with his feelings for Lily. I had to give him credit for his determination, for although Lily continued to make it clear to him that she had no interest and thought, to use her own words, that his head needed several hundred strong doses of shrinking solution, he did not give up, tripling his efforts to win her round as time went by.

Aside from the girls, our fun and adventures continued and James and Sirius's pranks, if possible, grew even wilder, although admittedly no less childish or immature. I felt that we were getting a bit old for it, to be honest, but at the same time I couldn't bear the thought of not being a part of the fun, and so I encouraged them all the more. To this day, I can still hear the laughter echoing round the Transfiguration class, as McGonagall's hair changed from steely grey to bright, electric blue. I'll never forget the morning we slipped hiccoughing solution into the jugs of pumpkin juice on the Slytherin table. The memories, over the years, have turned a little bittersweet, but they never fail to bring a smile, albeit a small one, to my face.

**oOo**

I had long ago given up talking them out of learning how to become animagi, but I was vaguely planning on resuming my flat refusal to let them join me as animals once they had achieved their goal. This, in hindsight, was never realistically going to work, but I had managed to convince myself that as that was what I was planning to do, there was no harm in my friends learning how to become animals anyway, and it was a few weeks before the Christmas holidays when, at last, their three years of hard work finally paid off.

James was the first to manage it. For many long months the three of them had been trying to do the actual transformation, but without any success. There was absolutely no verbal spellwork or wandwork involved, and the transformation relied on very subtle laws of mental magic that differed depending on the personality of the wizard attempting it. Consequently, finding the right state of mind was immensely difficult, and Sirius and James, who were not used to struggling with anything, had become increasingly frustrated over the course of our fifth year. Finally, after several hours of fruitless trying one evening, James lost his temper completely with it, and stormed out of the Room of Requirement, which is where we had been practicing. When we found him back up in our dormitory an hour later, he was still looking furious. "This is stupid," he snarled. "We've done everything, we've looked at every flipping book in this entire castle and we still can't do it."

At that point, I nearly told him to forget it, that it didn't matter, and that he didn't have to go to all this trouble and frustration just to help me, but then I saw the steely look in his eyes and realised that it wouldn't make a difference anyway. James possessed - and always had - a furious, tenacious determination that never let him give in, no matter how steep the climb in front of him. It was the reason that he persevered with his seemingly pointless attempts to impress Lily, and it was the reason that he would not cease trying to become an animagus until his years of hard work were rewarded. I also had a strong suspicion that the two issues were related at that present moment in time, and that Lily's indifference was contributing to his fury. Only that afternoon she had spurned his attempt at asking her to go into Hogsmeade with him and called him an "arrogant prat".

His eyes blazed with anger and even Sirius looked slightly alarmed. "James, calm down," he said. "I'm angry too, we all are, but getting annoyed isn't going to do any good. So just chill out, OK?"

But James just threw a book in Sirius's direction and marched out of the dormitory. We didn't speak to him for the rest of the evening and let him seethe in silence when he finally came up to bed, but the next day when we woke up he was already awake and dressed, and seemed to have regained a state of complete calm and relaxation.

"Must have burnt all his anger out," muttered Sirius, sounding perplexed, as we wandered to the Room of Requirement to practice the transformations again, James humming to himself and looking, unusually for him, quite absent-minded.

They started practicing, the look of pure calm still present on James' face, and as he started focusing his attention on becoming an animal, something started to change. Sirius let out a cry of astonishment as we saw his neck elongating, his body growing, his ears lengthening into long antlers until, before our eyes, stood a proud and elegant stag. The three of us immediately burst into applause and the stag bowed its regal head, before the process was reversed, and we saw the animal slowly regress back into a human shape. James' expression on reappearing as a human was one of sheer delight, and later that day, Sirius, following James' lead and drifting into a distant, unfocused sort of state of mind, also managed to transform for the first time, becoming a large black dog with sleek fur and a dark, elegant head which bore a distinctly arrogant expression.

Peter took a little longer. He was not nearly as confident as the other two, and needed all the help he could get from them in order to find the right state of mind. But, three weeks later, just a few days before the last full moon of the term, we were yet again in the Room of Requirement, watching Peter stand there with different expressions passing over his face, when there was a sudden hiss of triumph from Sirius and James. Peter, now a large brown rat sitting on the floor before us, had finally succeeded as well.

As soon as he had regained his human form, my three friends stood looking at me expectantly.

"You ready for our first adventure?" Sirius asked.

I hesitated as I looked to each of my friends in turn. It had been a while since I had openly refused to hear of the animagi transformations, but I had also not yet fully agreed to it. My conscience was screaming at me to say no, to refuse point blank to let them come, but my heart was feeling warm at the thought of company on the full moon, and the daring side of me, so much more pronounced since I had met James and Sirius, was itching to take on this new, exciting challenge. I tried one, last, weak attempt at dissuasion.

"You'll get into so much trouble if we get caught-" I began, trailing off as I caught my friends' wicked expressions, suddenly realising that there was probably nothing I could say that would have any effect on them whatsoever. As for getting into trouble, Sirius and James lived for trouble. If anything, the risk of getting caught only encouraged them all the more.

I sighed, and, with a single nod of my head, I both committed to this most dangerous plan and pushed aside any last fragments of my guilty conscience. It did not make an appearance for some time after that.

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	7. Lily's Discovery

**Summary: **See previous chapters

**Disclaimer: **All characters mentioned and any recognizable story lines belong to JK Rowling.

**a/n **Quite a short chapter. Please read and review!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Lily's Discovery

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><p>Lily found out about what we had done towards the end of the Easter holidays of our fifth year. Our adventures were going reasonably smoothly, and the other three were still practising transforming at every possible opportunity, because we had read in one of the books that if it was not practised often enough in the beginning, one could experience difficulties changing smoothly from human to animal or vice versa, something that could prove fatal if it happened on the night of the full moon.<p>

We were, as usual, in the Room of Requirement, James, Sirius and myself watching as Peter, who always had the most trouble, repeatedly transformed into a rat and back again. After about twenty times, his rat face was looking a bit twitchy and his human face flushed and a little dazed. He was also breathing heavily.

"Maybe that's enough for one day," I suggested with a laugh. "We don't want him to pass out!"

"One more time," Sirius insisted. He and James were taking no chances where the possibility of not being able to transform smoothly was concerned, and in fact I had never seen them so dedicated about anything. Their mature attitude towards making sure that the transformations went without a hitch had, completely illogically, helped me overlook the fact that what we were doing was horrendously irresponsible in the first place, thus easing any of my remaining feelings of guilt.

Peter obligingly regained his rodent form and Sirius was nodding in satisfaction when there was a noise behind us, and the door swung open to reveal Lily Evans, looking quite tired, vaguely stressed and weighed down by a ton of heavy books. James immediately ran his hand through his already messy black hair. It seemed to be an automatic reaction whenever she was near him, but it always seemed to irritate her more than anything else. _We_ found it highly amusing, especially Sirius, and once or twice he had been sorely tempted to glue James' hand permanently to his head. That day, however, he didn't even notice James' reaction, merely gaped as he saw who had interrupted us.

Lily stopped dead in the doorway of the Room of Requirement, the look on Sirius's face mirrored perfectly in her own, and for a few seconds no one spoke. We were completely and utterly shocked. After discovering the room in our third year, we had firmly believed that we didn't have to worry about anyone walking in on us while we were practising. We had yet to learn that if two people wanted the room for the same reason, it was perfectly possible for someone to find us. We had wanted an out of the way place to study, and, judging by the stack of books in Lily's arms, so had she.

James was the first to recover from the surprise. Forgetting Peter immediately, he said "Hello Evans" in the smoothest voice he could manage and attempted to engage her in casual conversation, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the rat sitting patiently on the floor in front of us. She looked from James, to Sirius, to me, and raised her eyebrows. I could see that it was an odd scene to walk in on, the three of us standing in silence looking intently at a perfectly ordinary brown rat, with Peter, who normally followed us around everywhere we went, nowhere to be seen.

If Peter had stayed as he was, in his rat form, we still might just have got away with it. Sirius was a great one for inventing excuses on the spur of the moment and I could just see his mouth opening as he thought of an elaborate tale to explain everything, or at the very least to ramble on about until Lily got fed up with him and left. But Peter did not have a great deal of common sense, if indeed any at all, and before Sirius could get a word out of his mouth, he chose to transform back into a human.

Sirius gave an audible sigh of irritation as Lily goggled at Peter, who seemed to realise that he had not made the best of decisions and looked sheepishly round at us all. Lily's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in sheer astonishment and several of the books in her arms tumbling to the floor. She did not appear notice them, however, and her voice was unusually shrill as she rounded on James. She was quite fond of blaming things on him.

"James Potter, what on earth have you done this time?" she cried. James, unusually for him, was lost for words, and could only manage, "er… well… you see…"  
>I noticed that his hand was still in his hair, which was now sticking up so violently he might have been struck by lightening. He looked helplessly at Sirius and myself for support, but Lily was one the smartest people I have ever known, and with a second glance at Peter's guilty-looking face, she guessed everything immediately.<p>

"You've learnt how to become animagi?" she gasped. "All of you?" she added, looking round at me, James and Sirius, clearly realising that Peter didn't have the brains or the initiative to have done something like this on his own. James grinned at her, and his usual self-satisfied expression instantly reappeared on his face. "Impressed?" he asked casually.

Lily's eyebrows were knotted in confusion and she was clearly having trouble speaking. "How?" she managed to get out at last.

"Practised of course!" Sirius said smugly, flicking his hair back from his face and looking even more pleased with himself than normal. "We had to have something to do in all our spare study time, didn't we? Watching everyone else work was getting pretty boring!"

Lily shook her head at him witheringly, disdainful of his arrogance, but she still looked confused.

"But why?" she questioned, clearly confused at why Sirius and James, who skated over everything and took as little time as possible to do their schoolwork, would put so much effort into something that required a great deal of laborious and theoretical work. "Why bother?"

This time, her question was met with dead silence, and Lily, not accustomed to James and Sirius having nothing to say, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. As she turned her gaze to where I had been keeping a low profile in the corner of the room, however, a sudden look of deep, calculating understanding came over her face.

"It's for you, isn't it?" she sighed softly. "To be with you when you-," she broke off awkwardly and turned slightly pink as I stared at her in shock.

I had always been extremely fond of Lily, ever since Slughorn had moved us together in first year potions and she had been so helpful and patient in spite of my pronounced lack of skill. During my very first days at Hogwarts, when I had sat alone in the library, reading or studying, she had sometimes been there too, and although we had rarely engaged in conversation, I had felt quite a close connection with her. Even now, she always treated me with a gentler approach than she did James or Sirius, something that I knew James was deeply envious of. I had thought she maybe held slightly more respect for me than she did for them, perhaps because we had both been made prefects. But in spite of all that, it would never have even occurred to me to tell her my most guarded secret, and I knew that the others would not have done either. So how was it she knew? Sirius's mouth fell open and he put forward my unasked question.

She waved her hand impatiently. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I worked it out ages ago. At the start of our third year." Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking fairly impressed, and James was also surveying Lily approvingly, clearly pleased that the girl he had chosen to centre all his affections on was not entirely devoid of deductive skills. I, however, immediately felt sick with fear.

"Does anyone else know?" I asked desperately. I just wouldn't be able to bear it if too many people found out, because I knew that the more people knew the more chance there was of the knowledge being spread round the school and of me being shunned by the other students. Lily must have seen the look on my face, because she was less impatient with me than with the others.

"I don't think so, " she said, shaking her head. "Most people seem too stupid to work it out, or else they're not around you enough to notice anything strange. And I certainly don't plan on telling anyone, so I wouldn't worry about that." I heaved an enormous sigh of relief, unable to express my gratitude that she had been so understanding.

"But you can't seriously be thinking of running around with a fully-fledged werewolf when the full moon comes around?" Lily said, turning back to the others, her tone now one of both incredulity and slight scorn. Peter, who had said absolutely nothing at all until then, lifted his head and nodded. "Already have," he affirmed proudly.

I shot him a half-amused, half-exasperated glare, while Sirius's eyes rolled like marbles and James looked murderous. We were normally encouraging Peter to be more vocal, but he had picked possibly the most inappropriate time to speak of his own accord, and Lily now looked positively beside herself with disbelief.

James, once he had finished glaring at Peter, turned back to her, his head tilted slightly. "Come on Evans, don't tell anyone, eh?" he said coaxingly. Lily glared back at him. Her whole body might have started emitting steam, so great was her indignation at what we were doing, but then my eyes met hers and I looked at her imploringly. In spite of the guilt I could sometimes experience for betraying Dumbledore's trust in me, I couldn't bear the thought of going back to the lonely and painful nights of my transformations, now that I had realised how special they could be when I was with my friends.

She held my gaze for a few seconds, and I was sure I could see a battle of wills being fought behind the wide pools of emerald, but finally she shook her head slightly, sighed in sheer exasperation, and bent down to pick up the books now lying scattered at her feet. As she straightened up, her bright eyes were still glowing with fury.

"You... Have got to be… The most idiotic people I have ever met in my life," she burst out heatedly, before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her.

But she _didn't_ tell anyone. I asked her why, several years later, when all the feuds and quarrels between her and James were a thing of the past, and she told me that she didn't quite know, that she really ought to have done, for both our safety and other people's, but something had held her back and she had kept quiet. Whatever the reason, I was deeply grateful to her, and over the years I grew to love her. Evidently not in the same way that James did, but I loved her nonetheless. Despite the irate and scornful attitude she maintained with Sirius and James, she remained kind and sympathetic with me, treating me with a gentle understanding that I didn't really feel I deserved, and over time I came to love her, not just as a friend, but as the sister I had never had, but always, secretly, longed for.  
>Indeed, as a child, I had frequently fantasised about having the company of a brother or a sister, and even on one occasion asked my parents if it were possible. I never repeated the question, as my mother's eyes had instantly filled with tears and my father had looked very sombre and merely shaken his head while I, confused and embarrassed, retreated hurriedly to my room. It didn't take very long for me to understand more fully that my parents would have loved to have more children, and, had their first and only child not been such a time consuming risk, this may well have been a reality.<p>

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	8. Guilty Subconscious

**Summary: **See previous chapters.

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to JK Rowling. Part of this chapter is the scene from the pensieve in Snapes Worst Memory (Ch. 28 OoTP)

Please read and review!

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Guilty Subconscious

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><p>The incident in the Room of Requirement had clearly infuriated Lily. Her anger at James in particular showed clearly for the remainder of our fifth year, and his ceaseless attempts to impress her only enraged her all the more. She continued to shut him out, talked to him less and less as time went on, but with every cold shoulder James just became more obsessed with how to win her over. I couldn't help thinking, occasionally, that he really was going about it in the wrong way, but my one and only attempt at telling him that it might be best if he backed off for a little while did not go down well at all.<p>

"Girls like a bit of forwardness, she just doesn't want to admit how she feels," he scowled at me, before walking off in a huff, one which prevailed for most of the day. Unwilling to risk losing my friend with my undoubtedly foolish and inexperienced advice, I gave up on any attempts to talk James into a more mature approach to winning Lily round, and did my best to turn a blind eye to some of his attempts, which were generally at the expense of other people's feelings. Although hugely popular with almost everyone, he did have a few confrontational scenes with people who disliked him, and, almost always being the stronger one when it came to spells or jinxes, could never resist a chance to show off and humiliate the person opposing him. Snape was his key target.

Both James and Sirius, unfortunately for Snape, became restless and bored during our OWL exams. They seemed to be the only people who weren't at all bothered with revising or studying. To be fair, they didn't need to be, because they always got top marks without doing an ounce of revision, but because no one else was in the mood for fun and games, they were limited in what stunts they could pull. So when Snape passed in front of our spot by the lake, where we had been sitting trying to cram in a bit of extra revision for our Transfiguration exam, I knew instantly that they were not going to let such a good opportunity of letting off a bit of excess energy pass unscathed, and sure enough they sprang up to provoke him.

Snape, never one to walk away from a fight, retaliated violently. As unpopular as the other two were liked, Snape had absolutely no support from the crowd which formed to laugh in delight as James mocked, taunted, and eventually hoisted Snape up by the ankle, dangling him in mid air so that his robes fell over his head, revealing his ragged grey underwear for everyone to see.

Lily immediately sprang to Snape's defence, still furious because of the incident in the Room of Requirement, and also, I assume, at the fact that James thought such a childish joke as this would amuse her. But Snape's reply was resentful and angry, and he turned on her and spat viciously.

"_I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her_".

I felt a jolt of anger on Lily's behalf that was reciprocated by James, but his attempt to make Snape apologise only riled Lily even more and she yelled a good many furious things to him about his immaturity, his big headedness and general lack of respect before storming off into the castle. James was momentarily crestfallen, but within seconds a renewed wave of fury had crossed his face, and he turned his wand on Snape once more.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" he shouted to the crowd of people surrounding him, and jeers and laughter echoed all around. He sounded very much like an entertainer at a muggle circus, trying to gain as much interest as possible before presenting their best act of the evening. Sirius, who had been egging James on more than anyone else, laughed loudly and said, "If you don't, Prongs, then I will." He pointed his wand at the still upside-down Snape. "Not that there's much of them left to take off," he added cruelly, and I winced at his tone, suddenly imagining how I would feel if it was directed at me.

I was still seated on the ground, and Peter was next to me. But while Peter was watching wide eyed, laughing shrilly at everything our two friends were saying and doing, I kept my eyes on my book, pretending to be absorbed in what I was reading. After a few minutes, unable to concentrate on my revision, I turned my head and looked into the lake, willing something interesting to burst out of it's cool, calm surface and distract me, but all I could see was the reflection of James and Sirius, as they stood either side of Snape, their wands pointing at his dangling, upside-down body.

James stared at Snape, his eyes glinting with a mixture of anger and amusement. Snape was spitting and cursing furiously, but as his wand was on the floor, he had no means of fighting back. James, enjoying the attention, pointed his wand slowly at the greying, tattered underpants and, taking his time, making sure that all those in the vicinity could see, removed them and let them drop to the floor, where they lay on the grass so that everyone could take a good look at them. Screams of derisive laughter echoed all around. I heard girls giggling nervously and boys jeering maliciously.

I felt a hot flush creep up my cheeks and stared back at my book, trying to shut my ears to the noise. Next to me, Peter was sniggering into his hand, but I didn't find it nearly so funny. I couldn't help it, and I knew James would be scornful if I ever confessed it, but I felt a deep pang of sympathy for Snape at that present moment, because this was a kind of humiliation greater than almost any other and because, unlike Sirius and James, I knew how it felt to be the centre of attention when you had no desire to be. Even though it hadn't been for very long, I could still clearly remember being at the muggle junior school, with other children laughing all around me, mocking and taunting. The unpleasant memory sent a shiver down my spine, and I at last raised my head and looked at the scene before my eyes.

James had apparently decided that he had tortured Snape enough, because he flicked his wand without warning, and Snape crumpled in a heap on top of the pair of pants now lying on the grass below him. He snatched the underwear as he disentangled himself from his ungainly position and then sprinted up to the castle steps, his eyes now overflowing with tears of complete fury and total mortification. The shrieks of laughter followed him all the way, and even when the crowd had dispersed, I could still hear the echoes of it ringing in my ears.

The incident, by no means the first or the last of James' confrontations with Snape, was unquestionably the most malicious, and remained quite clearly in everyone's minds for some time after. Snape acquired many unpleasant nicknames afterwards, the politest and least hurtful of which were "snivel-head" and "slime-pants" and the most insulting of which made me cringe when I heard them.

I felt worried and guilty, feeling that, as I was a prefect, it had been my duty to stop the occurrence before it got so out of hand, and as I had not done so, it put me even more in the wrong than James and Sirius. I wasn't at all friendly with Snape, quite the contrary, but I nevertheless felt that James had, on this occasion, gone too far. After all, removing someone's clothes against their will in public could hardly count in most people's book as "a bit of a laugh". It even crossed my mind that in the outside world James would probably be condemned for assault. But then we weren't in the outside world. We were at Hogwarts, where every week students went to the hospital wing supporting obscure injuries, extra limbs, or an abundance of spots and strange warts inflicted on them by other students. It was taken for granted that incidents like this occurred, and the rules that were applied to regular civilisation were distorted.

Additionally, I managed to convince myself that James and Sirius would not have stopped even if I had asked them to, and so did my very best to forget that it had ever happened, determinedly ignoring my guilty feelings. Disregarding guilt was something I was becoming very good at, I noticed uncomfortably. I had also managed to bury my conscience completely in regards to our full moon transformations, something that became even more apparent in the last weeks of that term.

**oOo**

I walked into our dormitory the morning after the full moon to find Peter, James and Sirius laughing about something. I suddenly had a fleeting memory of something that I thought might have happened the night before, and I felt apprehensive as I approached them.

"What's so funny?" I enquired nervously, sitting down.

James looked at me, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah only you! You almost found your way inside the castle last night!" he exclaimed. "The doors were left open and next thing we knew you were trying to go through them!"

I swallowed several times in quick succession, trying and failing to unstick my throat enough to speak. It was indeed what I had thought I remembered, but I had been fervently hoping that I had somehow imagined it, because the consequences could have been so severe.

"Luckily we managed to head you off," Sirius broke in. "Prongs and I blocked your way and you ran back to the forest. Wormtail was no use whatsoever though, just sat there squeaking!"

Peter gave another small squeak of protest at this, but I barely heard him as I gaped between my best friends, completely unable to comprehend their careless faces. Even Peter, who normally copied James and Sirius's every moved, was not laughing, just shrugged at me a little uncomfortably.

"It's fine Moony!" James said, noticing my face. "Nothing happened in the end, did it?"

But I was feeling ill as I thought of what _could_ have happened. Indeed, what very nearly _had _happened. I tried to blot it out, but the idea of a savage, terrible beast roaming the corridors, maybe even biting another student, filled me with such a well of dread that it shocked me into speaking.

"You're not coming out with me again," I said flatly, shaking my head. "I'm staying in the shrieking shack from now on." But James and Sirius just laughed.

"Sure," Sirius drawled, yawning and rolling his eyes.

"We'll see how long that lasts this time," James added.

I had honestly meant it at the time, but, as Sirius and James had predicted, my resolve lasted all of five days, vanishing as soon as they sat me down, promised me faithfully that they would be more careful, and managed to convince me with relative ease to start planning our next adventure. And so, as I had done countless times before and would no doubt do again, I pushed aside all my guilt and joined in enthusiastically with the discussion of the places we could explore when we came back to Hogwarts for our sixth year.

The guilt I felt over Snape and James' confrontation did last a while longer, but although I made a little more effort to put a stop to James' antics from then on, I had very little - bordering on no - effect on him whatsoever. As for Lily, she had feigned indifference to Snape's insult of _mudblood_, but I could tell that it had hurt and upset her. I never knew exactly how her relationship with Snape had stood, but I had often seen them walking in the grounds together or strolling around Hogsmeade talking and laughing. But after what had happened she deliberately went out of her way to avoid him, and their friendship, or whatever else it had been, was never renewed. A couple of times I saw her very deliberately ignoring him as he tried to talk to her in between lessons, and she certainly never tried to stick up for him again. Nor, however, did she show any signs of forgiving James, and if she had been cold towards him before, her demeanor would now not have been out of place in the arctic.

**oOo**

Lily's attitude towards James did not even abate over the summer holidays, and Sirius and I entered the common room during a free study period at the start of our sixth year to find them standing face to face, Lily with her arms folded and James with his hand in his mess of hair. We just caught the end of their conversation.

"..you're wrong," Lily was snapping, in response to what I presumed was James' seventh hundred attempt at asking her out. "In fact, I think I'd rather eat a bucket of horned slugs!"

Seeing that we were watching, she did not elaborate, merely swept off towards her dormitory.

"Making progress then!" Sirius chipped in brightly, and James swung round to see who had interrupted them. "I believe horned slugs are a delicacy in Vietnam!"

About to laugh, I stopped short as I saw the look in James' eye, an expression of bitter disappointment that almost bordered on misery. The look was so unguarded, so full of raw emotion, that I suddenly felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. I hadn't been able to help but think, at times, that he was just trying to win Lily round in an attempt to show off. After all, during my very first conversation with my best friends, Sirius had as good as bet him that he wouldn't ever go out with her, and James _hated_ to be proved wrong.

Yet now, as I saw his reaction to her most recent rejection, I suddenly realised that his feelings went much deeper than a mere desire to prove a point. I saw, in that split second of anguish that faded almost instantly behind his usual don't-care attitude, just how deadly serious about Lily he was, and just how much her indifference was upsetting him. Remembering how my last attempt at advising him to tone down his arrogance had gone, I could only hope that, at some point, James realised that maturity was probably the best way to Lily's heart, and stopped showing off of his own accord.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	9. Gone But Not Forgotten

**Summary: **See previous chapters

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

Gone But Not Forgotten

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><p>The unfortunate animosity between Lily and James continued for sometime, and it had to be said that with that, our ever increasing work load, and the threat of war that was growing stronger outside the castle walls, our sixth year was not our best year at Hogwarts. We still enjoyed ourselves immensely, of course. Our adventures at the full moon in particular grew more exciting than ever, taking us further and further a field. We discovered so much about the Hogwarts grounds and castle that Sirius suggested that we record our findings down on a map, a very unusual one at that, which became our new project, and unbeknown to us would prove lifesaving in years to come.<p>

"You know, we could make this map a lot more interesting," Sirius said one day. Peter and I were poring over our homework, James was staring morosely over to where Lily was sitting chatting to Mary Macdonald on the other side of the room, and Sirius who, as usual, had finished his work, was restlessly flitting from one activity to the other in his boredom. He had finally picked up the Marauders Map, as we had started calling it, and was idly tapping it with his wand.

"How?" I replied doubtfully. We had already recorded every square inch of the castle, all the passageways that led to Hogsmeade, all the secret pathways through the grounds and the outskirts of the forest. If there was anything else to go on it, which admittedly there probably was, then we hadn't yet discovered it.

"Well," Sirius continued thoughtfully. "It has all the rooms in Hogwarts. And all the passages. And the grounds. But what it doesn't have is all the people!"

"But how could we put all the people on it?" Peter said, looking up from where he had been struggling with his Herbology essay and appearing distinctly confused.

"Contained identity detection charm," I murmured, feeling quite pleased with myself for replying before Sirius had a chance too. I had read about it when doing some extra research for Charms, an immensely complex spell that, when properly cast, could detect the presence of anyone on a mapped out area and reveal their true identity.

Peter, who had dropped Charms after a disastrous OWL examination in which the kettle he was supposed to be filling with water had burst into flames and singed off the examiners' eyebrows, was still looking bewildered, but Sirius was nodding in satisfaction. "Right as ever, Moony."

"Will it work though?" I said thoughtfully. The charm was normally only used for single rooms or small houses. I knew that there had been several attempts to use it at the Ministry of Magic over the past few years, in an effort to tighten security, but the ministry was too big a building, constantly expanding and changing, with many different forces of mysterious magic and with thousands of overage wizards passing through it on a weekly basis, and each time the charm had failed to work as it should. Hogwarts might be a slightly more realistic target, but it was still well beyond NEWT level magic, and so would be pretty tricky to get right.

James was grinning now, finally distracted from his thoughts of Lily. "I reckon we could work out how to put it on the map!" he said enthusiastically. "We'll just have to adapt the original spell to a bigger area."

Given that the two of them had not only successfully worked out how to become Animagi the year before, but had also taught the slow witted Peter how to do it, I was soon left wondering why I had even doubted them in the first place and, sure enough, after we had sat poring over highly advanced charm books for just a couple of weeks, James decided it was already time to attempt the spell.

"So that's it?" Peter said doubtfully, after James and Sirius had spent several minutes waving their wands over the map and muttering.

"We'll see!" Sirius said, his voice brimming with confidence as he tapped the map one final time, and before our eyes, hundreds of little named dots appeared throughout our detailed plan of the castle. It looked like an ants nest had just exploded onto the parchment.

"There you go!" Sirius said to Peter in satisfaction. "And it doesn't matter if someone's in disguise, or invisible or anything. As long as they're alive, and within the Hogwarts grounds, their true identity will show up on this map!"

"We'd better hope that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands while we're out on the full moon then!" I said with a dry chuckle.

"Ah it'll be fine! No one will guess the password anyway!" Sirius dismissed this with a laugh, surveying the map. "This is great! We can spy on so many people! Hey James, Lily's in that secret passageway on the third floor with Bertram Aubrey!"

"What?" James exclaimed, grabbing the map, suddenly looking murderous. Bertram was a Ravenclaw student in our year, a quietly clever and mild-mannered prefect who we had always got on fairly well with until then. I _had_ noticed that he and Lily had been spending quite a lot of time together recently, but had desisted from mentioning this to James. He was quite short tempered at the minute anyway, and I had no desire to make that any worse.

"I'm sure the're just taking a short cut," I suggested tactfully, but Sirius was laughing even harder. "Standing a bit too still and too close together to be taking a short cut I think!" he snorted. "If it's any consolation Prongs I've heard he's a terrible kisser!"

I rolled my eyes. Sirius had yet to learn a thing or two about tact.

"What the hell does she see in _him_?" James was muttering furiously. "He's such a stuck up little show off. And she's always saying _I'm_ big headed!"

The unwelcome news that Lily was going out with someone else put James in a foul mood for several days, and when he came face to face with Bertram in a deserted corridor a few evenings later, he was unable to resist casting an engorgement charm on his head. He was given two detentions for it, and Sirius, who had laughed hysterically at the sight of Bertram's face swelling to twice its normal size, was made to join him in the first of them.

"I thought you might have outgrown jinxing people by now," I said with a half-amused, half-exasperated sigh, when Sirius told me what had happened. "You two have been doing fairly well at keeping out of detention so far!"

"Yeah, that's true!" Sirius said, suddenly looking quite concerned. "Better get our act together and land ourselves in a few more!"

I sighed deeply again. My role as prefect was still having no impact on my friends whatsoever.

**oOo**

Two days later, James returned from his second detention, still seething. We had been clustered round attempting to figure out why we were still unable to put the Room of Requirement on the map, as every time we tried it had faded by the time we took another look at where we had put it. Sirius had finally reached the conclusion that one of the rooms many useful funtions must be that it was unplottable and therefore impossible to mark on a map, and looking rather pleased with his deductive skills, he turned his attention to James's fury. "What's up with you?"

"Snape just told Flitwick that I was the one who transfigured all those books into hedgehogs and I've got another week of detentions." James burst out irritably. "I haven't even been near the charms cupboard. He's just trying to pay me back."

I decided that it may not be prudent to remind James that as he had displayed Snape naked in front of half the school a few months previously, he could probably expect a bit of retaliation. Sirius, as usual considerably less tactful, just laughed. "Could be worse mate, be thankful he hasn't tried to vanish all your clothes or something."

"I'd like to see him try," James said grimly.

"Take it out on this," Sirius suggested, pushing forward the map. "It's pretty cathartic, believe it or not!"

James looked down at us, bemused.

"We enchanted it to insult people we don't like," I explained, laughing a little at the childishness of it. "Look." I pulled the paper towards me and muttered the name "Gilderoy Lockhart", an arrogant Ravenclaw student who was several years below us, but who we had heard only that day giving his views on werewolves as we walked by. Apparently if he ever came face to face with a werewolf, he would "put it in its place", and was planning on eradicating all "dangerous half-breeds" as soon as he left school. Lockhart had no idea that he had instantly made a bitter enemy in myself and my three friends, but we had spend a good deal of that evening abusing him in the safe privacy of our dormitory, and, at the mention of his name, writing appeared on the map in front of us.

Raising his eyebrows, James leaned over me and read aloud, "Mr Moony would like to inform Mr Lockhart that he is a stuck up, snobbish git and hopes that one day he realises that he is half-human, half-arsehole and eradicates himself."

James looked at me, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "It's always funny when someone gets under your skin Remus. You're normally so polite and... well... mellow."

I shrugged. This had always been the case. I think the fact that I had no physical or mental control during my transformations meant that I tried to keep a very tight rein on all my emotions when I was of sane mind. Sometimes I wished I could be a bit more outspoken, like James and Sirius, but I was gradually starting to accept my personality, and the fact that although I had always thought myself a bit meek and feeble, others did seem to like me for who I was.

"Go on, have a rant about Snivelus," Sirius said, pushing the paper towards James. "It'll do you good!"

"It's not quite as satisfying as hexing his face off," James said, grudgingly picking up the parchment.

"That may be so, but if you miss another Quidditch practise to detention you might actually be in danger of losing the next match," I said grimly, and James, faced with such serious issues as Quidditch, consented, for once, to take out his anger in a completely passive way.

We did have quite a good time verbally abusing Snape, recording down our worst insults and laughing childishly, and although I never admitted it to Harry, when I saw the words reappear, a good fifteen years later, in front of a livid, grown up and now _Professor_ Severus Snape, it took all my strength and serious in order to keep a straight face.

**oOo**

The map proved highly useful for the rest of that year, and even James and Sirius managed to go a full three months without receiving detention, because the map made it so easy for us to sneak around without being caught. Unfortunately, as the months wore on, we became a lot more careless, just as we had with our full moon adventures, and we started using the map in the open where people could see us. We were sitting huddled over it one evening, too preoccupied with watching the dot that was Snape - which, to James' intense rage, was right next to the dot that was Lily - to keep an eye on our own, when we suddenly heard Filch wheezing along the corridor behind us. James just managed to wipe it clean, but Filch, looking at us most suspiciously, confiscated it, telling us that he had no doubt, judging by our guilty faces, that it was some joke shop product that would make a mess, a racket or both.

We weren't overly bothered by the confiscation of the map, as we knew it by heart and Sirius and James held out vague plans to sneak in to his office and get in back at some point anyway. But our mood was still low. Lily's relationship with Bertram had thankfully been quite short lived, and in spite of what we had seen on the map she did not appear to be rekindling her friendship with Snape, but James was still failing to impress her himself and becoming increasingly fed up, and when Sirius failed to cheer him up he too became annoyed and irritable. Their usually high spirits were dampened, and although James was starting to make an effort to be less immature, to stop jinxing people for the sake of it and to speak politely whenever Lily was in earshot, I had a feeling it was too little, too late. A few weeks of decency just weren't enough to break the image of James that Lily had built up over the past six years. If it hadn't been for an incident at the very end of our sixth year, which had quite a drastic impact on several relationships, James may never have got the chance to prove himself to Lily at all.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	10. A Black Mistake

**Summary**: See previous chapters.

**Disclaimer**: Characters aren't mine.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

A Black Mistake

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><p>The night was to hold our last night time escapade for the school year, and I, as usual, had been led across to the Whomping Willow by the school nurse. Sirius had sneaked out to meet his latest girlfriend by the Herbology greenhouses, and Peter and James were in the library, waiting impatiently for him to return. We were all sincerely hoping it would go better than last time, because the previous month I had somehow managed to give my friends the slip, and they had been frantically searching for me all night, becoming increasingly scared that I was roaming around Hogsmeade unchecked. As it turned out, I had managed to find my way back to the forbidden forest, and they had found me in the early hours of the morning, and no harm was done, but it was with extreme trepidation that I made my way to the Shrieking Shack, desperately hoping that nothing would go wrong that night.<p>

**oOo**

I was not, evidently, present to witness any of my friends' actions at the time, but from what I heard afterwards, it appeared that Snape, who had also been out of bounds at night - no doubt up to no good - had seen me crossing the grounds with the nurse and disappear into the boughs of the tree that, for once, was not attempting to lacerate everyone it its path. He was standing on the castle steps, wide-eyed, and barely able to believe what he had just witnessed, when Sirius passed by, and realising that it was too late to distract him, decided that it would be a brilliant idea to tell him how simple it was to follow me and see what I was doing.

I can imagine the scene all too clearly, Snape standing with his mouth open, those cold black eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Sirius saying as he went by, in his usual casual way, "You want to follow him Snivelly? Just press that knot on the tree. It'll stand still for you, as well."

I often wonder why on earth Snape didn't suspect a trap from the very beginning. He and Sirius had never been anything but bitter enemies and it should have seemed very odd that Sirius was willing to give away information about his friend so easily. I can only assume that curiosity got the better of him, and that he was so keen to find a way of getting one, if not all, of us expelled, that he did not think of the risks he may be taking in listening to Sirius's words. Sirius just stood there, watching with satisfaction as Snape walked in the direction of the tree.

I later heard various accounts of what happened next from Peter, James, and also from Lily, who was the only other person in that section of the library at the time.

James looked up impatiently as Sirius finally arrived. "Have you finished snogging yet or should we wait a further fifteen minutes until you're quite sure that you're done," he asked, somewhat crossly.

Sirius just grinned. "Sorry I'm late," he said, and as James snorted in irritation he said wickedly, "It's all for a good cause anyway."

"Oh yeah?" James asked disbelievingly.

"Well, yeah, I just told Snivellus how to follow Moony into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow."

Peter gave a little snigger, but cut it short as James looked up, the colour leaving his face very slightly. "You're joking?" he said, his voice loosing its normal confidant tone. When Sirius didn't reply, James persisted, "You _are_ joking? Aren't you?" Sirius shook his head with a thoroughly amused look on his face, and then read James' expression, which was one of complete shock at what he had just heard. "Oh come on Prongs, it's only Snivellus," he protested. "You know, Snape? The pathetic Slytherin slime ball who has always hated you and who's always trying to get us expelled. You hate him too, remember?"

But James's face was now completely devoid of colour and he was staring at his best friend as if he could not believe his ears. His voice shook slightly as he replied. "Yeah, of course I do," he faltered. "But seriously Padfoot, this is going too far, much too far". He was looking desperately at Sirius, no doubt hoping that he would realise what he had done at any moment. But Sirius was merely looking incredulous.

"Too far?" he said. "Who was it who put that sticking charm on his broom in flying class all those years ago? Who was it who made that coughing solution explode in his face in potions? Who was it who put itching powder in his underwear in our fourth year? Or even better, who was it who actually _removed_ his underwear last year and left him hanging upside down for the whole world to see him? Your're not the only one who can have a bit of fun, James," he finished sulkily.

James gaped at him. At any other time, bearing in mind that Lily was in earshot, the reminder of that day would have made him furious. But he was in such a state of complete incredulity that he barely even noticed what Sirius had said. As he replied his voice trembled even more.

"Haven't you thought of what will happen if he gets as far as the Shrieking Shack? Remus will have already transformed!" he gasped. "Sirius this isn't just a bit of fun, this is murder!"

And Sirius seemed to realise all at once the seriousness of what he had just done. That was Sirius all over; act first, think later, often too late. His handsome face paled as he stared back at his best friend. Peter was looking between his two heroes as if trying to decide which one was right, but James didn't bother saying anything else. Seeing that Sirius had finally understood, he jumped to his feet at once.

"What are you going to do?" Sirius called after him, to which James replied, "I have no idea, just something to ensure he doesn't come face to face a fully transformed werewolf in about ten minutes time." He paused for a moment, turned round at the doorway and looked Sirius in the eyes, own glowing with a sudden determination. "I'm not going to let even my worst enemy be murdered by my best friends." He raced out of the room at top speed.

In the worrying turn of events, they had forgotten Lily, and only noticed her ten minutes later, when she left the library with her usual armful of books, so they did not see that as James' robes whipped out of sight, she was staring after him in a nervous but also slightly admiring way. For the first time in six years, she was looking at him with something other than contempt, at long last seeing through the big-headed exterior to the kinder, more conscientious person who was lurking underneath.

Snape was nearly at the end of the tunnel when James caught up with him. I had already transformed, and therefore I was in no position to show any mercy to a stray student wandering across my path. My transformations made me lose my mind, and I was unable to recognize any human, even my best friends. This was unfortunate for James, because he was unable to follow Snape in his animal form. The passage was not large enough to admit a fully-grown stag. In our previous adventures it had been up to Peter and Sirius to go through the tunnel first and keep me under control, with James following as a human, and only transforming once he had reached the house, where there was enough space for him to do so.

But that night he was all on his own. There was no dog and no rat to distract me if things went wrong for him. James, I'm sure, was fully aware of this factor, but it did not deter him as he reached the tree, pressed the knot to make it stand still, and plunged into the dark tunnel concealed beneath the boughs.

Just as Snape was approaching the end of the tunnel, James saw the back of his black robes, gave a cry of warning, and Snape whipped round. I should think that his reaction was not one of joy at seeing his worst enemy, and James told me later what a hard time he had had trying to convince Snape not to go any further.

"Snape, come back, it's not safe," he yelled after him.

But Snape just snarled in fury. He had been ridiculed and taunted by James too many times to believe him now, and he continued marching down towards the end of the tunnel. James continued to shout furiously.

"Come back, you idiot, you'll be killed."

Snape didn't falter, obviously thinking that James' words were just a ploy to prevent him from catching me red handed when I was doing something I shouldn't be. Unfortunately noise attracts werewolves. The sound of human voices would have brought me running. And, sure enough, as Snape came within ten feet of the end of the tunnel and looked directly into the house, he saw it, the shadow of a monstrous, snarling beast.

"Snape go back," James bellowed, running forward and throwing Snape away from the house and back down the tunnel. This time Snape obeyed, the brutal movement jerking him to his senses. He started to run, and James was quick to follow him, but as they got further away, Snape looked back over his shoulder, just to confirm that what he had seen was true. And there, at the end of the tunnel, was a werewolf. Me. The tunnel was to small to allow me to easily chase them, but Snape had seen me and there was nothing James could do about that. His grim black eyes suddenly full of understanding, it did not take long for him to put two and two together. He wasn't completely stupid, after all, and from that moment on he knew what I was.

It was an immense relief to Sirius and Peter, who were still in the library under James' invisibility cloak, when James returned to the castle with Snape in tow. Hearing footsteps, they came out of the library, and waited in the shadows of the entrance hall, watching as Snape spat something out at James and headed off to the dungeons. Sirius was looking white and shaken as they pulled the cloak off themselves and walked towards James. "What happened?" he whispered. "What did Snape just say?"

James shook his head. "That we hadn't heard the last of it," he said bitterly. "I'll tell you the rest in the morning," he added flatly and Sirius left it at that.

**oOo**

"…so then I yell at him to go back but he wouldn't listen." James was saying to Peter and Sirius as I entered the common room the next morning. It was a Saturday, and we therefore did not have classes. I had just been for my usual check-up with the nurse, and as I walked back to the common room I had been trying and failing to remember what had happened the night before.

All three of them looked up as I entered the common room and approached them.

"What are you talking about?" I asked curiously.

James was biting his lip, a strange expression on his face. "Um, you might want to sit down," he said quietly and I did as he told me, worried by his tone of voice.

They told me everything, Sirius looking ashamed as he recounted his part in the affair, and James taking up the story when it came to what had happened after he had left the library.

When they had finished, I could actually feel the blood leaving my face as I struggled to take in what I had almost done. What Sirius had almost done. Part of me wondered how on earth he could have done something like that, but the other part of me knew that it had been a mistake, and that on this occasion he had simply gone too far. Sirius was not a murderer, whatever else he might be.

James stared at me, worried by my expression. "Remus, no one's going to blame you, don't worry," he said. "You had nothing to do with it."

I didn't reply. It wasn't the getting into trouble that bothered me. It was how close I had come to murdering two students in one night. Sirius glanced at James. "What's Snape going to do now?" he murmured.

James shrugged. "Well he won't keep quiet about it, that's for sure," he replied. "No doubt Dumbledore will be told."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Gryffindor seventh year, came up to where we were sitting. "Black, Potter, the headmaster wishes to see both of you in his office," he said briskly.

James looked at us with an expression that said, quite clearly, "What did I tell you?" and he and Sirius left the common room.

I waited with Peter, feeling apprehensive. When the two returned, Sirius was looking ashamed and flushed, a way I had never seen him before, and James a little shaken.

"What did he say?" Peter clamoured anxiously. "Was he angry?"

James looked thoughtful. "Not so much angry, as disappointed, I think," he said. "You know what he's like, never raised his voice or anything, and just looked at us over the top of his glasses. Snape had been to tell Slughorn, they were both there, and Dumbledore just asked us what had happened and told Snape not to interrupt."

"Are you in trouble?" I dared ask.

James shook his head. "I'm ok, he realised I had saved Snape's life," he grinned, and a shadow of his old self showed on his face. "You should have seen the look on Snape's face when I got given twenty points for Gryffindor."

Peter looked at him open mouthed, but I noticed that Sirius was looking uncomfortable and I turned to him questioningly. He sighed. "He docked fifty points, and I got detention of the rest of the term," he said gloomily. "And as well as that I have to scrub all the bathroom floors in the teacher's wings before the holidays. Without magic," he added.

There was a small silence. And then I thought of something else. "Does Dumbledore know about you becoming Animagi?" I asked nervously.

James looked thoughtful again. "I don't think so," he replied. "Snape never saw me as a stag, so he definitely doesn't know, and no one else has realised anything before, have they? So I think it'll be all right. And you don't have to worry about him knowing about you either," he added to me, as if he had guessed what I was about to say. "Dumbledore forbade him to tell anyone, and I don't think even Snape would dare defy Dumbledore."

I felt distinctly relieved. Snape was nothing like Lily. If he had been allowed, he would have spread my secret to everyone who would listen. Sirius spoke up. "So next year?" he faltered. "Are we… are still going to… you know?"

"Go out on the full moon you mean?" James said, and as Sirius nodded sheepishly, he shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "They're the best parts of being at school as far as I'm concerned. We'll have to be very careful though, more careful than before, I don't want anything like this happening again." He broke off and put his head in his hands. "You nearly gave me a heart attack last night Padfoot."

As Sirius was looking abashed, a movement in the corner of my eye made me look round. Lily had approached us, her arms devoid of the usual load of books, and, although I couldn't be sure, her eyes very slightly red, as if she'd been crying, or had had a bad night's sleep. She did not look nearly so composed as she normally did.

"James?" That in itself was a shock. I had never heard her call him anything but Potter.

James looked up in surprise, and for once his hand didn't jump to his hair the way it normally did. "Oh, hi" he said, looking a little confused. I don't think Lily had approached him voluntarily since the incident with Snape in our fifth year.

"I…I heard what happened," she said. "You know- last night," James waited apprehensively, no doubt wondering if he was about to get a lecture for being irresponsible.

"I-I think you were really brave," she finished nervously. My eyes widened in surprise. Sirius's eyebrows shot upwards into his hair, and Peter wrinkled his nose so that his face wore a more profound expression of bemusement than normal.

James looked completely taken aback. He didn't look cocky or self satisfied like he normally did, just smiled, though I did notice that his hand had jumped back to his hair.

"I-I …" he paused, and nodded slightly. "Thanks Ev-," he broke off before he could complete the word Evans and then looked her in the eye and swallowed.

"Thanks, Lily."

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><p><strong>An:** I know this scene doesn't quite fit in with timeline of events_ The Prince's Tale_ chapter, but in _Prisoner of Azkaban_ Snape says Sirius was sixteen when he tried to kill him, which still fits in with my version. I also wanted something quite big to make Lily see James through new eyes. Hope people like it.

Please read and review


	11. Summer Surprises

**Disclaimer and Summary: **See previous chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

Summer Surprises

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><p>"I swear, if you mention Lily one more time, I will glue your mouth together with a permanent sticking charm," Sirius said, sitting up and glaring at James furiously.<p>

Several weeks into the summer holidays, my three friends and I were lying on the grass under a large oak tree in James' back garden. The sun was too hot for it to be comfortable, and it had been with great relief that the four of us had collapsed in the shady spot that afternoon.

I had already been at James' house for two weeks. After arriving home for the summer, the atmosphere in my own house had become increasingly strained. The wizarding world was at war. Indeed, it had been for for about ten years, as Lord Voldermort slowly but surely gained strength and followers, but suddenly, in the last few months, there had been a dramatic progression in dark activity, and attacks on both wizards and muggles were getting more and more frequent. My father, as a result, was extremely busy with work at the ministry. I knew that his job was very important, but my mother, not fully understanding how serious everything had suddenly become, became tense and quite irritable. She felt that as I was home for the summer, my father should at least be there to see me and to spend time with me. The strains in their relationship, which had been almost non-existent since I had started at Hogwarts, resurfaced once more, and on the rare occasions that my father was home before she went to bed, they almost always had a row.

Just as I was beginning to dread the remaining five weeks of the holidays, cooped up with only my worried mother for company, I received a letter from James, inviting me to his house to stay for the rest of the summer.

"_Sirius has left home, for good this time,_" he had written,_"__he's camping in our garden, Mum and Dad offered him a bed but he says he prefers it out there, so I've joined him in the tent. We decided it would be much more fun if we were all here. Can you come? Wormtail is arriving the day after tomorrow._

I had, slightly nervously, told my mother about my friend's invitation, a little worried that I should not leave her when my father was away so often, but desperately wanting to escape from the claustrophobic atmosphere that was now present in my home. To my relief she seemed happy to let me go, and two days after receiving James' letter, I packed everything I would need and bade her a long, cheerful farewell, promising to write, assuring her that I would stay out of trouble - although I avoided her gaze as I said this, because keeping out of trouble was something I didn't seem to be able to do any more - and set off for James house.

Two weeks had already gone by, much too quickly for my liking, and that afternoon James, who had been pondering aloud for about the hundredth time whether Lily may or may not be coming around to him at last, immediately fell silent at Sirius' words.

Lily and James had not had a great deal of contact since the night that James had saved Snape's life. In spite of her words to him the morning after, she had barely spoken to him since, flushing slightly if she came face to face with him in the corridors, avoiding catching his eye, and keeping out of his way as best she could. James had, unusually for him, not persisted, perhaps having finally realised that going slowly was the surest way of winning her round. When he had talked to her, her had been careful to call her "Lily", and not "Evans", something which she seemed to appreciate, even if she did not make a great deal of effort to engage in conversation.

I had a shrewd suspicion that she was now battling with herself, one part of her trying obstinately to remember the James who she had made a great show of disliking over the previous six years, the other part of her yearning to get to know the much nicer person who lay under James' confident exterior, who she had now seen a brief glimpse of, and in spite of herself, had liked. At the end of term, she had responded to James' enthusiastic shout of "Have a good summer Lily!" with a twitch of her hand and a smile of her own, something she had never done in previous years.

She was still keeping her distance, but, according to James at least, these small changes in her attitude towards him were a good sign. I was quite prepared to take his word for it, but he was not at all reluctant to go into details, very keen to express his views on the latest development in his relationship, and Sirius, who had never obsessed about a girl for longer than about five minutes, had very quickly become fed up with James' one track thought.

After Sirius's threat to jinx his mouth shut, James was much more cautious, knowing that he was quite capable of doing something of that nature. He seemed unable to avoid the subject completely, and Lily's name kept cropping up repeatedly in our conversations, but although Sirius responded each time with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he accepted James restraint and even consented to give him a few words of advice himself, which, considering his experience, were probably very helpful.

Peter and I remained mostly silent throughout these conversations, as neither of us had a lot of experience when it came to that department. I was not sure I fully understood girls, but when I'd dared confess this to Sirius and James, they had both laughed and said that no one did, something that did not make me overly optimistic about getting a girlfriend in my last year at school.

I felt I had quite enough to worry about anyway. Seventh year was our notoriously difficult NEWT year, and the year in which we would have to decide what we were going to do when we left school.

James, Sirius and Peter did not seem at all worried about this, but finding work after Hogwarts was, for me, very problematic. I had taken careers advice from Professor McGonagall, and while she had assured me that I had many valuable capabilities, she had also warned me that it wasn't going to be easy to find work, that as much as she disagreed with the prejudice, I was going to encounter problems, difficult questions, and flat refusals all the way. I was tactfully told what I'd started to realise at six years of age, that it didn't matter to everyone else that I detested being this monster. It didn't matter what results I could achieve in examinations, what sort of personality I had, or what I believed in. Being a werewolf was enough to put a black mark over my name without any further questioning.

My one shining hope had, once again, been Dumbledore. He had told me, in his usual calm, wise way that I was not to worry, that he had contacts at the Ministry and many other places besides, that he was sure that he would be able to help me find a position somewhere, and that, if all else failed, I could have a job at Hogwarts in a few years time. That last statement had been said with a twinkle in his blue eyes, and I had not really known whether to take him seriously, but I had been sure of one thing. Dumbledore was one person I would always be able to count on. That summer, I was still optimistic about what was to come.

But, as it turned out, that summer was probably the last happy and peaceful time the four of us ever knew. We were still young and careless and I don't think we realised just how terrible the war had become, or how many lives it would soon claim. We had known about dark wizards gaining power for so many years that it had become an accepted fact of life. We couldn't fail to notice the increase in horrific stories that, almost everyday, were front page news in the Daily Prophet, but reading about it, seeing it in black and white, when it could just be folded, hidden, or thrown in the fire, was very different from experiencing it first hand. Although we found the idea of war deeply disturbing, it was not enough to mar our happiness, nor our plans for a lazy and enjoyable summer spent at James' large country house.

**oOo**

A week before we were due to go back to school, the four of us were sitting in the Potter's kitchen eating breakfast, which was today, on James's request, pancakes. James was smothering his own helping with a covering of pumpkin syrup and sugar so thick that you could barely see the actual pancake at all, when an owl appeared on the window sill outside with a dignified hoot. Four letters were attached to its leg.

"Hogwarts letters!" James exclaimed, jumping up. "About time! I though Dumbledore must have decided that we weren't welcome back this year after all."

I opened mine, and read it briefly. There were three new books to purchase, and other than the fact that there was a short notice written at the bottom of the parchment, informing us that standard dragon hide gloves would no longer be sufficient protection in Herbology, something that, admittedly, gave me a slight sense of apprehension, the letter was much the same as it had been for the past six years.

My mind wandered idly back to my very first Hogwarts letter six years ago, remembering how bitterly disappointed I had been as my father refused to let me attend, and how Dumbledore had been so kind, so understanding. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the man, as I thought of everything I now, thanks to him, took so much for granted, but which, six years ago, had been nothing more than a hopeless dream.

A loud yelp from opposite me shook me out of my thoughts, and looking up, I saw that James was now holding his Hogwarts letter at arms length, as though afraid that it would explode, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open.

"No way!" he exclaimed

Sirius, who had returned to his extremely large portion of pancakes after reading his own letter, looked up questioningly.

"Wha'?" he inquired, through a mouthful of food.

James did not reply. Mouthing wordlessly, he lunged across the table to grab the envelope that had contained his letter (which he had tossed carelessly aside just moments before) knocking the butter dish of the table and onto the floor with a crash.

"I don't believe it…no way!" he said again, ignoring the sound of breaking china and turning his envelope upside down, shaking it a little as he did so.

"_What_?" Sirius repeated impatiently.

James still did not reply and Sirius opened his mouth again irritably, but his question was answered as James shook the envelope, and a shining gold badge fell out of the envelope and onto the polished tabletop. Leaning forward to look at it, I saw that two words were writing on the front in silver letters.

All four of us stared at it for a second or two. Then I came to my senses. "_You've _been made head boy?" I said incredulously. Peter's eyes widened in amazement, and Sirius appeared utterly incapable of coherent speech, merely stuttering helplessly. When he had recovered a little, he reached out his hand, and grabbed the letter from James. "Let's see that, there's got to be a mistake," he snorted. "There's no way …_no way_… how can _you_-" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"It says, it's written there, there's no mistake," James said, sounding a little smug. He was grinning broadly, his face full of childish glee. I was reminded for a fleeting moment of a five-year-old in Honeydukes sweet shop.

His parents had suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway from the next room, no doubt wondering what all the commotion was about, and James jumped up from his seat excitedly, waving his letter in their faces. "I'm head boy!" he cried ecstatically.

Before that moment, I would have said that nothing could have made Mr and Mrs Potter more proud of James than they had already been. I would however, have been wrong. After several minutes of initial astonishment, during which their reactions were much the same as mine, Sirius's and Peter's had been, they were able to talk. With broad smiles on their faces, they congratulated him nothing short of twenty times, read his letter over and over again, and examined every square millimetre of the golden badge as if to learn it by heart, before rushing out of the kitchen to inform their friends, neighbours, and anyone else they could find that their son was soon to be head boy of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Once they had left the kitchen, Sirius who was still goggling at James, said, "how, in Merlin's name, are _you_ head boy? I mean, no offence James, but _you_? When have you ever - _ever_, shown any signs of – of…" He searched in vain for the right word… "Headboyishness?"

"Perhaps Dumbledore's finally losing his senses," I suggested dryly, picking up James's letter which I had not yet had a chance to read. I skimmed the page, my eyes stopping only at the bit that interested me. Sure enough, at the bottom, was written in none other than Dumbledore's very own narrow, slanted writing.

_Mr James Potter, it is with great pleasure that I inform you that you have been appointed with the position of Head Boy for this coming year at Hogwarts._

James, quite suddenly, looked awkward. "Remus...it, well, it should have been you really- I- I'm sorry."

I stared at him, surprised. "Me?" I said with a laugh, genuinely astonished at James' comment. It was true I had been the Gryffindor prefect for the previous two years, but to be honest I think more through default than anything else, due to the fact that I was, as my father had bluntly put it, the least offensive candidate out of a bad lot.

Dumbledore had no doubt thought it would be good for me to have a little responsibility, and had probably held out a vague hope that I would be able to exercise some control over James and Sirius, something that I had, without question, failed miserably at. I had honestly not even considered the possibility of being head boy, and at that moment, even in my astonishment that Dumbledore felt that James would be suitable, I felt a huge sense of relief that I was free from the weighty task of being the voice of authority in my little group.

I said all of this to James. "And anyway," I finished with a grin. "After last year Dumbledore probably thinks you're the perfect man for the job. I mean, you didn't get _that_ many detentions, and you showed that you could be responsible and everything when you rescued Snape; he probably wants to give you a chance to show a bit more of all that. Probably hoping we'll see a whole new side of you."

I had actually meant for this to alarm James more than anything else, but he just stared at me, then at the badge in his hand, and then grinned even more widely. "Head boy," he murmured. "Wow, I don't believe it."

Sirius was looking at him without smiling. "Well, I don't know why you're so happy about it," he said gloomily. "Head boy, as Remus just said, means responsibility, which, in case you hadn't realised, means no more pranks, no more jokes, no more jinxing Slytherins just for the sake of it. It might even mean no more sneaking out every full moon. You have to be sensible, remember, and set an example for others."

I half expected James' face to fall, but it didn't. He looked a little dazed, his eyes had become slightly unfocused and he didn't seem to have heard what Sirius had just said. A very familiar expression appeared on his face, one I had seen many times before, particularly that summer.

And I suddenly realised exactly why James was so happy, and why he wasn't sharing Sirius's gloom, because I _had_ half-expected him to be disappointed at being assigned a high ranking position of responsibility. I leaned towards Sirius, who was still regarding James with a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and disappointment. "Three guesses who's going to be head girl?" I murmured in his ear.

Sirius's forlorn look was immediately replaced with a wicked grin. "Oh, of course," he said, starting to laugh. "Why didn't I see that one straight away?"

It was fairly obvious who would be head girl that year. Lily, aside from being the cleverest witch in our class, had shown from our very first year that she was kind and sensible, as well as being a strong enough character to take on leadership. She had been a prefect for the previous two years, and, unlike me, had demonstrated that she was capable of exercising the perfect amount of control over both herself and others, thus making herself a near certain choice for head.

James had clearly realised this too. With one last gleeful shout, he bounded out of the kitchen, and up the stairs, leaving me, Peter and Sirius to stare at one another, still in slight shock at the unexpected turn of events. His plate of pancakes, which he had been so eagerly devouring not so long ago, was left unfinished on the kitchen table. Sirius raised his eyebrows, then, with a shrug, sat down and, having finished his own breakfast, pulled James's plate towards him. "I think it's going to be an interesting year," he mumbled, his mouth almost too full to speak.

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><p>Please read and review x<p> 


	12. The Beginning of the End

**Summary and Disclaimer: **See previous chapters

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

The Beginning of the End

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><p>Sirius's prediction of an interesting year looked set to come true before the term had even properly begun.<p>

At five minutes to eleven on September 1st, the four of us were standing on platform Nine and Three Quarters, surrounded by the general bustle of activity, as first years said goodbye to their parents for the first time and older students greeted each other excitedly, while others struggled along the platform with loaded trolleys, or shoved heavy trunks onto the Hogwarts Express. When at last we had found a vacant compartment near the engine and thankfully loaded our trunks in, James threw himself into a seat by the window and sighed contentedly.

"Don't get too comfortable," I warned with a grin. "You'll need to go off on your duties in a bit." As Head Boy, he would soon have to go to the prefects' carriage, a prospect that was causing us all, especially Sirius, a good deal of hilarity.

"Now, you be good and stay out of trouble," his mother said warningly as James leaned out of the open window to say goodbye to his parents. "No more messing around now you're Head Boy." James assured his mother that he would be as good as gold, with an angelic smile on his face that could only have convinced two such doting and trusting parents as Mr and Mrs Potter. Sirius, Peter and I exchanged amused glances behind his back as the train started pulling away.

Ten minutes into the journey, James sat up. "Well, I'd better go to the prefects carriage I suppose," he said. And then, with a bemused expression, he added, "Blimey, that's something I thought I'd never have to say, it feels so weird!"

He got up and slid open the door to our compartment; stepping out into the corridor just as a tall, redheaded figure went by. James's smile widened visibly.

"Hi Lily," he said, evident enthusiasm in his voice, blocking her way so that she had no choice but to stop just in front of our compartment.

Lily did not return the beaming grin, although she didn't look exactly displeased to see him. Sirius, Peter and I watched the scene in silence. Even Sirius seemed to sense that this was quite a pivotal moment and now was not the time to intervene with a witty or sarcastic comment.

"Hello James," she said politely, and made to walk past him.

"Did you have a good summer?" James persisted, still blocking her way. For a moment I thought Lily wasn't going to reply, because her mouth tightened and a closed look appeared on her face, but then she shrugged. "It was ok," she said, although on closer inspection I saw that she looked quite pale and tired and might even have been crying. James looked about to speak again but she cut over him.

"James, look, I'm sorry, but I have to go to the prefects' compartment, so-"

James' face split with a broad smile once more. "Well, at least allow me to accompany you," he said brightly, and as Lily opened her mouth, probably to refuse this generous offer, he went on, "I have to go there myself, as a matter of fact."

Lily looked taken aback. "You do?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows a little. "And why would that be?"

James didn't have time to answer, because at that precise moment her eyes fell on his golden Head Boy badge. James had pinned it proudly to his chest the minute he had got dressed that morning and it had been standing out against his navy blue jumper ever since. Lily had clearly not noticed it until then.

She stared at it for a minute, shut her eyes and opened them again, unable to believe what she'd just seen. "_You_? You're head boy?" Her mouth fell open. "You?…I mean...How?" she finished at last.

Sirius, who had been watching their interaction and thoroughly enjoying it, was unable to keep silent any longer and said, "Yep, that was pretty much our reaction as well."

"We thought Dumbledore must have gone mad," I added calmly.

"Even James couldn't believe it," Sirius continued in a smooth voice. "Looked as though he'd been hit over the head with a beaters bat when he received his letter."

James shot him an annoyed look, clearly not wanting him to say anything else that might embarrass him in front of Lily. Sirius caught the look and subsided, content to watch the scene in silence now that he had had given his two knuts worth.

Lily regained her composure with relative ease. "Well," she said briskly, "then I suppose you know that we should be in the prefects' carriage by now. We need to greet the sixth year prefects, and inform the new fifth year ones of their duties and everything."

"Of course I know that," James said, putting on a falsely injured tone. "It was written in the letter. I do know how to read you know."

"And," he added, as Lily rolled her eyes, "I don't quite know why everyone's acting so surprised. I mean," his hand jumped onto his mess of jet-black hair, and made it even messier, "can you honestly think of a better candidate for head boy?"  
>I sighed. He had been doing a reasonably good job at being modest until then, but James could never resist showing off for very long.<p>

Lily snorted. "You'll never lose that big head of yours, will you Potter?" she said, and although she sounded serious, I was sure I could detect a glint of amusement in her green eyes. "Well, come on then, we'd better get going, we're late as it is." she said, and set off down the corridor at a brisk march. James, as he made to follow her, turned round briefly, and gave us a triumphant smile.

Sirius shook his head in disbelief as the compartment door slid shut behind them. "I still can't believe that _James_ is Head Boy," he murmured. "I just hope Dumbledore knows what he's let the rest of the school in for. And as for Lily, she'll probably be tearing her hair out before long. Now that James has an excuse to be around her he won't leave her alone."

There was a brief silence. "Do you think he'll go out with her this year?" Peter piped up. "She doesn't seem to hate him any more."

I exchanged a thoughtful look with Sirius. "I'm not sure she ever really hated him, you know," he said slowly. "I think she just found him infuriating. And things are a bit different now, after what happened with Snape at the end of last year. I mean…she's seen that he's all right underneath, hasn't she? And I know James, he won't give up, whatever happens, not after six years of trying to win her round."

"He really is serious about her, isn't he?" I mused, "I realised that last year. I used to think he was just having a bit of a laugh, trying to get her to go out with him to show off a bit. And I'm sure that's what Lily thought."

Sirius nodded slowly, "I know. I thought the same. Not always, I mean…it was obvious he was desperate to go out with her… but occasionally I _did_ think I that maybe he didn't care about her as much as he was pretending to. I even told him to give up on her," he admitted a little sheepishly.

"You did?" I said in surprise. "I didn't know that!"

"Yeah, well," Sirius said, "He didn't take it very well, so I didn't bring the subject up again. It was the day after that incident with Snape…you know, when he - well" he coughed, and then went on, sounding a little ashamed, "when _we_ turned him upside down and Lily came up and said all that stuff to James, about him being arrogant and big-headed and all the rest. And afterwards he was pretty fed up. I mean, let's face it," he looked at us with a rueful smile, "It wasn't exactly nice what she said, was it? Though there was some truth in it. I think he's realised that now… " He tailed off, perhaps thinking that it was time he himself became a little more mature and sensible.

"Yes, and?" I prompted him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, well, yeah, he was really fed up, and I told him to give up on her. I told him that Lily wasn't the only girl in he world, and that as he wasn't exactly short of opportunities, it might be best if he just gave up and tried to find someone else to focus his attention on."

"I'll bet he loved that," I said with a laugh.

Sirius grimaced. "Well, we had a bit of a row actually, and that doesn't often happen. He looked at me like I was mad, and then said all this stuff about how he'd - you know - how he'd felt that way about her since the first time he saw her, and how he hadn't spent five years trying to get her to like him just to give up because she'd had a go at him. He got pretty angry actually. Not laughing or joking or anything. I knew then, that he really was serious, that he wasn't just messing around."

We fell silent again, until I said, "The thing is, he went about it in the wrong way. Showing off was never going to impress her; it just made her angry. And he's only just realised that. Better late than never, I suppose"

Sirius smiled grimly. "I just hope that this year he gets what he wants, otherwise he'll get all gloomy again, like he was at the end of last term. That'd be unbearable. It's bad enough that he has to be a good boy and set a good example."

I lapsed into silence once more as the train made its journey through the green fields and deserted woods. Sirius's words had just reminded me of something that I had been worrying about for a while now. Ever since the morning James had received his Hogwarts letter I had been aware that he _was_ going to have to become considerably more careful when it came to breaking the rules. To be honest, I would not be too bothered if he stopped playing practical jokes on people, or jinxing them just for the sake of it. It may be amusing at times, but it had always bothered me a little, especially as both James and Sirius had a tendency to get carried away. Our adventures every full moon however, were another matter. They always made up a big part of our year at school, and helped me no end with my transformations. And James might well decide that being head boy no longer permitted him sneak out every month.

I voiced this thought to the others. Peter looked crestfallen. "You mean we really can't go out at the full moon any more?" he asked, his nose wrinkled in disappointment.

"Don't be stupid, of course we can," Sirius said at once, and as I looked unsure he went on, "James won't change that much. If I know him he'll be looking for an opportunity to break the rules before long."

"Yeah, but do you know James now he's head boy?" I said. "He may well decide that he can't take the risk now he has so much responsibility, and he's quite within his rights to forbid us go out anymore as well." I was trying to sound casual, but I couldn't keep a note of worry out of my voice, which Sirius detected.

Looking sympathetic, he said, "Remus, James knows how important this is for you, we all do, and after all, it was our idea to become animagi in the first place to help you. It would be unfair to stop now just because James is head boy. If James really doesn't like it then he doesn't have to come with us, and he can pretend he doesn't know anything about it."

I felt slightly happier, but also guilty. It was one thing to go along with my friends, but quite another to persuade them to keep breaking the rules if they started showing signs of responsibility. The argument I had been having with myself for a long time resumed itself in my head. I had never quite been able to forget Dumbledore's words to me on the day I had first met him. "_I will have to ask you, Remus, to follow the rules that I will set down for you, to ensure not only others' safety, but yours as well__." _Andfor over two years now, I had betrayed his trust. I had not followed the rules he had set down for me, and I had put the lives of my fellow students in danger countless times. Part of me felt terribly guilty about this, but the other part of me just couldn't bear to forgo the pleasure of having company on the nights of my transformations.

"I guess James isn't coming back then," Sirius said with a sigh, as the lady with the food trolley passed and James, despite his promises to return as soon as possible, still had not reappeared. "He said he wouldn't be long."

"Yeah, well, he's probably busy," I said, and Sirius grinned craftily.

But, ten minutes later, the compartment door slid open, and James entered, looking a little flushed.

"Well?" Sirius said, before he'd even sat down.

"Well what?"

"Well, what happened with Lily?"

"Nothing," James said innocently. "Why, what were you expecting?"

We stared at him impatiently. He removed the innocent expression from his face and became more serious. He shrugged as he sat down opposite me.

"Honestly, nothing happened," he repeated. "We didn't talk much, and she did all the talking to the other prefects. I thought it would be best if I left her to do that, seeing as I'm new to this whole "I'm in charge" thing, although she had a bit of a go at me about it afterwards. Said we both were heads so I should have said a bit more, made a bit more of an effort to set a good example." He smiled. Apparently even Lily telling him off brought good memories.

"And then?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"Well then, I came back here, didn't I?"

Sirius was looking thoroughly disappointed. "But you've been gone _ages_," he protested. "Something more than that _must_ have happened."

James shrugged again. "Well, we both stayed in the prefects carriage for a bit, and talked to the others. Your brother's been made a prefect by the way," he added, and Sirius made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. "What a surprise," he retorted scornfully, "A dark-arts loving pureblood becoming a Slytherin prefect! Bet my parents are thrilled. Did you speak to him?"

"Er, only briefly," James said. "He told me you'd run away from home, and I said that I knew that, 'cos you'd been at my house all summer, and then he said…er… well… he said that your mum had removed you from the family tree. Blasted a hole in the Black tapestry."

Sirius hunched his shoulders moodily. "How will I live with the grief?" He muttered under his breath, and James dropped the subject, realising he was in dangerous waters.

"So yeah, we talked to them," he went on. "And then Lily said she'd better get back to her compartment, so I came with her. I asked her what she had done this summer, but she said she didn't want to talk about it, something about problems with her sister. She seemed pretty upset."

He shot a look at Sirius, who was still looking disbelieving. "Well, what was supposed to happen?" he asked, "I wasn't going to mess things up again on the very first day of term, was I? Not now she's only just starting to talk to me properly. You realise that I might actually be getting somewhere now? I don't want to blow it." He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. "I _really_ don't want to blow it," he said again quietly, this time more to himself than anyone else.

There it was again, proof that, whatever Lily might think, James really was deadly serious about her. What surprised me most of all was his mature way of handling the situation. In the last two months he seemed to have aged mentally by at least four or five years. James raised his head again and noticed us all staring at him.

"What?" he said.

"I was just thinking that you've become a lot more mature all of a sudden," Sirius said, voicing my thoughts exactly but lacking the admiration that I myself was holding for James at that minute and sounding somewhat disdainful. "We were just talking about our full moon escapades. Remus said maybe we couldn't do them anymore and I told him not to be ridiculous."

James grinned at me, although I had a feeling that his mind was still on Lily. "I said this last term, and I'll say it again" he said. "They're the best part of being at school. Of course we'll still do them."

I felt reassured and worried at the same time. James looked at the three of us, a bemused expression on his face. "You didn't think I'd change that much, did you?" he said in astonishment. "And talking of changing, we'd better get into our robes," he added, glancing out of the window. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the landscape through which the train was making its journey, as darkness was falling, but I could just make out the shapes of the small brick houses that lay on the outskirts of Hogmeade, and by the time the four of us had pulled on our robes, the train had arrived into the station.

Once on the platform, I looked down at the younger students milling around, unable to believe that I had once been that small and scared. Sirius and Peter chuckled in amusement as a plump first year staggered off the train, tripped on his too-long robes and ended up flat on his face right in front of us. Suppressing a smile myself, I made to help him, but James beat me to it. "It's my duty as Head Boy to help the younger students, after all," he said in a mock serious tone, when he noticed me looking at him with raised eyebrows. I had a feeling that he had probably only done it in the hope that Lily would see - wishful thinking, as she was right on the other side of the platform - but it was a nice gesture all the same. The boy, scared by the four imposing seventh years who all had their eyes fixed on him, muttered an embarrassed word of thanks and disappeared into the crowd.

"I bet he's sorted into Slytherin, then you'll wish you'd left him on the floor," Sirius whispered to James, an hour later, as the young boy – Rowle, Thorfin - one of the last to be sorted, had the hat placed on his head.

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted instantly, without even a second's hesitation, and Sirius looked smugly at James as the boy tripped off towards his new table. James just shrugged ruefully.

The last two to be sorted were both placed in Gryffindor, and it was only after they had joined our table and plates of food had materialised all around us that I realised just how hungry I was. Throughout the feast, James seemed unable to prevent himself from shooting frequent glances at Lily, who was sitting a few places away from him. She did her best not to look at him, but occasionally her eyes met his, and although her expression remained stony while he held her gaze, I saw it soften, the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips, when James had averted his eyes.

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><p>Please Read and Review x<p> 


	13. First Dates

**Summary and Disclaimer:** See previous chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

First Dates

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><p>It took us all several days to get back into the Hogwarts routine, and become accustomed to going to lessons, working in the library and having meals in the Great Hall, not to mention getting up at a reasonable time, which we had been incapable of doing throughout the summer holidays. The workload was increasing by the day now that we were in our final year, every teacher impressing on us time and time again the importance of hard work and concentration if we wanted to achieve good results in our NEWTS.<p>

In spite of the ever-increasing workload, my three friends and I managed to have as much fun as we always had done. As James and Sirius had promised, our full moon adventures continued, although James was now much less prepared to take unnecessary risks.

"Right," he said in a low voice, the day before the first full moon of the term. "We'll play it safe this first time I think. After what happened last time I don't think we should be taking any chances. We-" he broke off, looking round. Lily had just walked by, and she froze when she heard what we were talking about.

"You're still sneaking out then," she said. It was a statement, not a question. Her voice was fairly controlled, but I thought I could detect a hint of some suppressed emotion. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes darted nervously from James to me, and back again. James looked at her apprehensively, obviously wondering how to interpret these outward signs of emotion.

"Look," she said, lowering her voice as a couple of younger students walked past. "I'm not going to tell anyone, you should know that by now. I'm not even going to tell you not to do it. Not that it would make any impression on you if I did. But for Merlin's sake _be careful_!" She seemed to be talking to James more that anyone else.

"I'm always careful," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Lily glared at him. "If there's one thing you're not, it's careful, James Potter," she said. "And for your information, at the end of last year you nearly scared me to death." I remembered her red eyes the night that had so closely ended in disaster, and wondered if the emotion in her voice was due to worry that we would get hurt. Or killed.

James looked at her and ran his hand through his hair, for once in consternation rather than smugness. "Look Lily, we will be careful, you really don't need to worry," he said seriously. "Although," he added cheekily, unable to stop himself, "it's nice to hear that you care about me after all."

Lily looked ready to explode, but she didn't say another word. She just shook her head and marched off towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.

Sirius looked curiously at James. "I thought you didn't want to blow it," he said.

"I don't," James said shortly. "And I haven't. But I could do without the danger lecture right this minute. I'm perfectly aware of what could happen if we're not careful. Right, as I was saying, we'll play it safe. We won't go near Hogsmeade. If we stay in the forest, well away from the castle, it's probably best. After all, we've never really explored the forest properly, and to be honest we know almost every square inch of Hogsmeade by now anyway."

That was perfectly true. We had always thought it more worthwhile to explore the village and the castle grounds. There had never seemed to be much point in straying into the forest. But, the more we thought about it, the more we thought that it would be interesting to explore its hidden depths. Peter gave a nervous little squeak at the suggestion, but as Sirius and I were nodding in agreement, he raised no objection.

**oOo**

"Well, I think that went pretty well," James said enthusiastically, the next day. He was in a good mood because, having expected Lily to give him the cold shoulder for his words to her the day before, he had been pleasantly surprised when she had greeted him warmly that morning. I suspected she was immensely relieved to see us all alive and unharmed.

We agreed that it had indeed gone well, and even decided that it would be a good idea to stay in the forest at the full moon from then on. Somehow it did not seem like such a serious breach of the rules, as the four of us were convinced it would be safer than roaming around the grounds or the village. Looking back, I can see that this particular brand of reasoning was not entirely correct. It was true that we were less of a danger to other humans, but when, in later years, I heard the rumours about what dwells deep in the forest that borders Hogwarts, I realised that we were very lucky to still be alive. Rumours of the werewolves however, did amuse me, as I knew full well that they only werewolf running around in the forest had been myself.

**oOo**

One wet and windy afternoon, we entered the common room after lunch, and saw that most of the third years were clustered round the notice board, chattering in excited voices. "Must be the first Hogsmeade visit soon" I said, remembering my own excitement the first time we had been allowed to go to the nearby village. Now we had been there so many times that the excitement of an all-school Hogsmeade visit had worn off, and in any case, we were so familiar with the secret passages that led into Hogsmeade that we could technically go there whenever we wanted. The Halloween visit was always a particularly enjoyable one though, especially as there was the feast to look forward to afterwards.

"Hogsmeade," James said slowly. He was looking thoughtfully across the common room. Following his gaze, I saw Lily sitting alone by the fire, gazing into it, her expression unfathomable. James hesitated, and then cautiously approached her. I had a strong suspicion that I knew what he was about to do.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and headed towards an empty armchair on the other side of the room, Peter and I following. Peter and I began to talk about our Transfiguration essay, which neither of us had started, but Sirius was looking in the other direction, and I could tell that he was trying to hear what was going on between James and Lily. This was proving impossible, because the common room was particularly crowded and noisy after lunch, and eventually Sirius gave up. "Someone should invent extendable ears or something," he muttered crossly, folding his arms and hunching in his chair. He refused to join in our conversation, and when James came back to us a little while later, he pounced on him immediately. "What was that about?" he said abruptly, but James just smiled serenely and shook his head.

That afternoon I decided to go to the library. James and Sirius both had Quidditch practice, Sirius having joined the team that year as first reserve, and Peter, as he always did, was going to watch, but sitting out in the stands in the pouring rain and ferocious wind was not really my idea of fun, and given that I still had several essays to finish (and in some cases, to start), I decided to head off to the library.

Lily was sitting at the desk nearest the door, quite alone. She had just finished writing and as I approached she lay down her quill and rolled up her many pages of parchment.

"Is that your Transfiguration essay?" I asked, in some astonishment. We were all used to her writing several feet more than what was considered average, but this seemed to surpass even her normal standards.

"No," she said, with a small smile. "It's a letter to my sister." I nodded, although her reply, if anything, heightened my confusion. I was sure I had heard her say in the past that she didn't get on with her sister, and that therefore their communication while she was at school was very limited.

Lily looked worried so I didn't persist, but after a moment she began to explain. "We don't get on, we never have. Not since I started Hogwarts, anyway. She's not magical at all and she's always said it was for freaks, although I think she really wishes she was here too." Lily sighed sadly. "And this summer when I found out that I was going to be Head Girl it was the last straw. My parents made quite a big thing of it, you see, and I think she was feeling left out. She and I had a huge row. Well…that's nothing new, we're always arguing, but this time Mum and Dad kind of took my side, and told her that she could at least be pleased for me. I'm sure they were trying to smooth things over between us, but she reacted like we were ganging up on her or something, and it made her even more furious. She moved in with her boyfriend two days later and I - " her voice shook slightly. "- I haven't seen her or spoken to her since I received my Hogwarts letter." She looked down at the rolls of parchment in her hand, and for a minute she looked on the verge of tears. "This is the third letter I've written to her since the start of term. I don't think she reads them though. Even if she does, she doesn't reply."

I looked at her sympathetically. She groaned softly and put her face in her hands. "Everything's suddenly so complicated," she said despairingly, "what with this…the amount of work we've all got at the moment…having to worry about Head Girl duties, and career options when there's a war going on…and James-" She broke off, suddenly eyeing me thoughtfully.

After a moment of hesitation she said, "Remus, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied, a little surprised, sinking into the chair next to her.

"It's about James," she went on, and I nodded slowly, wondering if this had anything to do with her and James' conversation earlier that day.

"I wanted to ask you," she said haltingly, "whether…erm-" she was struggling for words, unusually for her.

"James asked me out," she said finally.

"Well, that's nothing new, is it?" I replied with smile.

"No," she admitted. "But the thing is… before today… I've always been able to say no."

"You've been able to say a bit more than no, if I remember correctly," I said, now grinning, as a few particularly heartfelt put-downs of Lily's echoed in my memory.

She smiled vaguely and gazed up at the high ceiling of the library.

"So I'm guessing that this time you couldn't say no?" I prompted her, and she nodded.

"Part of me still wants to refuse… but… he seems to have changed, grown up…oh, I don't know," she said in despair. "I said I'd think about it, because I still feel worried about saying yes, but I don't even know why any more."

I looked at her in silence, wondering if she was telling me this just to get it off her mind, or whether she actually wanted my advice. Deciding that James would probably never forgive me if he found out that I hadn't acted on an opportunity to persuade her to go out with him, I threw caution to the winds.

"Look," I said, "you must know that James is crazy about you. He always has been, ever since our very first night here at Hogwarts." With a smile I remembered an eleven-year-old James Potter grinning appreciatively at the lively redhead seated just a few seats away from him.

"And I know that he sometimes goes a bit far," I continued. "And he tends to lose his head a bit. And he doesn't really take everything seriously…" Lily acknowledged this with a twitch of her head.

"But if there's one thing that he _is_ serious about," I persisted. "It's you. And look, I know you've always had a pretty poor opinion of him, but underneath he's a fantastic person. He's brave, he's fun, and if he cares about someone, he really will do anything for them. He's been a truly amazing friend to me over the years."

Lily nodded, biting her lip.

"I know he's brave," she said. "You don't need to tell me that. Too brave, if anything. And yes, some of the things he does _are _amusing, even though I've always pretended to disapprove. And I can see he's loyal. To be honest, until last year, I thought he wanted to go out with me just to prove that he could get anyone he liked. But I don't think that, not any more."

She looked at me sharply. "I needed advice," she said, "and it's no use asking my own friends. They all think I should have gone out with him ages ago. Most of them would give their wand arms to be James Potter's girlfriend. I needed to ask someone else, who knows James well enough to tell me honestly what he thinks about me."

I nodded, surprised but also grateful that she obviously trusted my opinion enough to talk to me about this.

"But don't tell the others," she added, looking at me beseechingly. "Please don't, especially not Sirius and Peter. They wouldn't understand."

"Lily, you've kept my secret for years" I said with a laugh. "And I'll never be able to show you just how much I appreciate that. So if you want this to stay between us, then it will."

Lily grinned at me gratefully. "I'll tell James later that I'll go into Hogsmeade with him," she said decisively, collecting up her things. "I just hope Mary doesn't mind, we usually go together." She finished stuffing books into her bag, then paused and looked at me thoughtfully.

"Remus," she said slowly. "You haven't got a girlfriend, have you?"

I felt myself going red, feeling stupid. I shook my head. "Why?" I asked suspiciously. Lily hesitated. "Oh, no reason" she said casually, shaking her head and swinging her bag onto her shoulder. I felt even more suspicious but Lily did not elaborate on the subject as she left the library. "Thanks for the advice, Remus."

"You're…welcome" I replied distractedly, suddenly lost in thought. Lily's last question had unnerved me a little. It was true that I didn't have a girlfriend, and I never had done, unless you counted the two times I had been into Hogsmeade with Helen Bones, a Hufflepuff girl who I'd worked with in Herbology. I had gone out with her twice in our sixth year, mainly on my friends' encouragement, but it had to be said that neither outing had been highly successful. The first time had been towards the end of January, on a day that was so cold and snowy that half the students had preferred to stay by the fire in their common rooms. We'd walked to Hogsmeade in a raging blizzard, and by the time we had reached the magical village, had been so cold and wet that we had not had the heart to do anything other than go to the Three Broomsticks, drink a couple of bottles of Butterbeer and return to the castle.

We had tried going out again, this time on Valentines Day. Helen had taken me to Madame Puddifoots, a tiny cramped little café that I had never been to before, and would hopefully never go to again. We'd sat down at a table and ordered our drinks, and then sat in awkward silence. I had found the cramped, sickly atmosphere in the café highly unnerving, and had been even more stuck than usual for something to say. After several moments of silence Helen had leaned towards me, presumably to kiss me, and I had jerked my head back slightly without quite knowing what I was doing. I hadn't really meant anything by it, I had just been caught unawares, but Helen had gone bright red and looked mortified. She too pulled back very suddenly, knocking the steaming cup of coffee Madame Puddifoot had just placed on our table into my lap as she did so.

Needless to say, we had both been deeply embarrassed after this incident, and had returned to school immediately without so much as a word to each other. When I told my friends what had happened, they had all howled with laughter. "So it was what you might call a hot date then?" Sirius said, when he could draw breath. James rolled his eyes at Sirius's feeble joke, but he too was unable to speak for laughing. Peter was also laughing loudly, which I thought was pretty unfair, given that he had never been out with anyone in his life. Even though all three of them insisted that it was nothing, that there were far worse things that could happen, and that I shouldn't let something silly like that put me off, I was too embarrassed to go out with Helen again. She also avoided me from then on, and that concluded my one and only experience with a girl throughout my entire first six years at Hogwarts.

Back in the library, I suddenly remembered why I had come there in the first place. My conversation with Lily had put all thoughts of work out of my mind, but I suddenly caught sight of the clock on the library wall, and realised that if I wasn't careful, I wouldn't finish the work I had wanted to do before supper. With a sigh, I pulled out my book, quill and parchment, and got to work.

**oOo**

When I entered the common room that evening, it was practically deserted. Most people had already gone down to dinner. Sirius and Peter were nowhere to be seen, but James stood in one corner talking to Lily. He was still in his Quidditch robes and, decidedly wet and muddy, must have just come in from practice. I kept my distance, not wanting to disturb them, but the room was so quiet that snippets of their conversation came floating to my ears.

"…decided…like to go…"

"...the giant squid wasn't available then?"

Lily's voice rose. "Don't push it James Potter," she said, giving him a light punch on the arm, but she was laughing all the same.

I smiled to myself, pleased that everything appeared to be going well, and only noticed Mary Macdonald when she was right next to me. "Hi Remus," she said, sinking into the armchair next to mine.

"Oh, hi!" I said, smiling at her.

"She said yes, then?" she enquired with a smile, and I nodded, looking over at Lily and James again, who were still laughing together.

"I guess Lily won't be able to go with me into Hogsmeade then," she murmured. "I- I don't suppose you want to come with me, do you?"

She had sounded casual, but as I looked back round at her I saw that she had gone scarlet. Her large dark brown eyes were darting nervously around the room as she waited for my reply.

I was caught off guard, not really knowing what to say.

"I...um...I -" What _could_ I say? I liked Mary. She was Lily's best friend, and she was doing the same NEWT subjects as me, so I had got to know her quite well in recent years. She was a nice girl, kind, caring and funny, if a little shy, and although she had been quite a plain looking first year, the transformation in her looks over the last couple of years had been quite remarkable. Even Sirius had admitted to me just the other day that it had been a mistake to describe her as "vanilla", back in our second year, and had wondered if she would go out with him. I had managed to deter him from asking her, feeling surprisingly protective of Mary, and not wanting her to be a victim of Sirius's womanising ways, but I could not imagine dating her myself, and had certainly not been expecting her to want to date me. As usual, my awkwardness around girls left me floundering for a suitable reply.

"It's ok if you don't" she said hurriedly, sensing my hesitation. "I was just-"

"No!" I said hastily, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "No, I- I'd like to…"

She smiled. "Well, great," she said, her cheeks still tinged with pink. "I-I'll look forward to it." She got to her feet and made for the portrait hole as James, who had just finished talking to Lily, came over. "I'll just change and then we'll head down to supper," he said, still grinning broadly. "Sirius and Peter will have probably finished by now."

I nodded distractedly. Mary had left the common room now, and Lily was about to follow when I stopped her.

"I don't suppose Mary asking me to go to Hogsmeade with her has anything to do with you?" I said innocently.

"What makes you think that?" she inquired, equally innocently, her green eyes widening slightly.

"Well…I don't know," I couldn't help smiling. "It just seems a little strange that your best friend asks me out just a couple of hours after our conversation earlier."

Lily smiled sheepishly.

"Well yeah, I might have had a bit to do with it. Mary was going on about you the other day, saying how nice you were and everything, and I just thought…maybe…if she and you went out together…you know… Oh come on Remus, why not?"

"Well I've already said I would," I admitted, "although…" I added wryly, "You know perfectly well why not." Lily looked at me questioningly, and when I spread my hands as if to indicate the obvious, and she shook her head and said briskly, "Don't be ridiculous Remus, that doesn't mean anything. You have no less reason to go out with someone than anyone else."

I went red, knowing that this wasn't strictly true. How could I be properly involved with someone else when I could not tell them my darkest and most dangerous secret? Nevertheless Lily's words had warmed me, and I suddenly felt more confident about going out with Mary that Halloween. "Thanks," I said awkwardly, and Lily laughed. "You're welcome," she said, and we left it at that.

I never told anyone the conversation I had held with Lily in the library that day, but it meant a great deal to me that she trusted my opinion enough to ask it. And occasionally, I liked to feel that I maybe played a small part in her and James' relationship. Of course, I have no doubt that James' persistence would have paid off eventually without any help at all, but it was a nice thought to have nevertheless.

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><p><strong>an: **There's not going to be much on Remus/Mary because it isn't canon and this is a Remus/Tonks fic (she will come into it eventually) but I thought that it was important to show another relationship before Tonks and I liked the pairing.

Haven't had many reviews but I can see from the stats that people are still reading it so I'm hoping those readers are enjoying it. Criticism welcome too. :)


	14. James' Triumph

**Summary and disclaimer in previous chapters**

**Thanks for follows and favourites. They inspire me to keep writing!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

James' Triumph

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><p>Halloween seemed to come much too quickly for me, although I'm sure that for James it seemed like years. I still didn't feel entirely comfortable about going out with Mary. Nice as she was, I had never really thought of her as anything other than a friend, nor had I ever known how to act on dates. I had never been able to flirt innocently like Sirius did, or talk to girls in the confident way James did. I was often stuck for something to say in their company, and I wasn't sure that I would find things any easier with Mary.<p>

And then there was my "furry little problem" as James had started calling it. What Lily had said was all very well, but I couldn't imagine anyone still wanting to go out with me if they discovered what I really was. People might like the Remus they thought they knew, but if they found out about the hideous creature I transformed into every month, I had no doubt that their feelings would change immediately to disgust.

On October 31st, James took nearly an hour to get ready for his date with Lily.

"Anyone would think you were a girl, for heaven's sake," Sirius said irritably. He himself had got dressed in five minutes and was now sitting on the edge of his bed, watching as James tried on different outfits. Currently single, despite numerous opportunities, he had been a little put out to discover that he would have to spend the entire day alone with Peter. Although we had a lot of affection for our smaller friend, he _could_ be a little tiresome at times, and it was always much more fun when we were together.

James did not take any notice of Sirius. "I think I'll wear the blue shirt," he murmured, and to my amusement and Sirius's despair, he put on an outfit he had discarded about half an hour before.

It may have taken him a while, but when he had finished, James was looking smarter than I have ever seen him. His hair had been brushed into submission, although I was certain that at some point during the day he would mess it up again. He was wearing a shirt I had never seen before, and his trousers were unusually clean and free of creases. Sirius, looking him up and down, said, "You finished? Or would you like me to paint your nails for you as well?"

James ignored him, picked up his wand and his cloak in a dignified sort of way, and set off out of the dormitory and down the stairs.

Lily was waiting for him in the entrance hall, looking very pretty. Her hair was bouncing round her shoulders as it always did and she was wearing a green jumper that matched her eyes. She smiled at James, before turning to me and saying, "Mary's just coming."

"Right" I was all I could manage, my insides suddenly squirming with nerves at the thought of being alone with her. James and Lily set off, and Sirius winked at me, said brightly, "Have fun!" before he and Peter followed the crowds now moving towards the big front doors.

Mary appeared a few minutes later. "Sorry I'm late," she said, a little breathlessly.

"That's ok," I murmured, smiling at her. She too, was looking pretty. Her dark blond hair, which she usually wore tied up, was loose around her shoulders and her eyes were sparkling. She was grinning brightly, and I suddenly felt less nervous, sure that whatever happened, we would have fun that day.

We walked side by side as we set off towards Hogsmeade and I soon became relieved about one thing; it wasn't nearly as difficult to talk to her as I had feared it would be. We managed to keep up a steady flow of conversation most of the time and soon I was chattering and laughing with her in the same way I talked to Sirius, James and Peter. We walked round the shops, but it was so crowded that we could hardly move, and in the end we decided to head for the Three Broomsticks and get a drink.

"You know, I've wanted to ask you out for a while," Mary admitted, a little haltingly, once we were seated and having our drinks at a table by the window. I smiled, also a little awkwardly, wondering how you were supposed to reply to something like that. I took a gulp of Butterbeer and, not finding anything else to say, inquired "you have?"

Mary nodded. "Yeah," she said, giving a small laugh. "I just wasn't sure…you know…" she shrugged, flushing again, and I suddenly suspected that she had been as nervous as I had about our date, a thought that was somehow reassuring.

"Well maybe we could do it again sometime?" I suggested, surprising myself with my forwardness. Mary beamed at me. "That would be great… I have a feeling Lily will be occupied for a while anyway."

"What makes you say that?" I asked. She made a slight indication to show that she was looking at something over my shoulder, and turning round to look through the dusty window, I saw James sitting with Lily on the stone bench opposite the Three Broomsticks. They were both holding bottles of Butterbeer, and had evidently preferred to have their drinks outside rather than in the crowded pub.

As I watched them, I suddenly felt a warm feeling spread through my chest which had nothing to do with my own drink of Butterbeer. Neither of them appeared to be saying much, but they looked so happy and peaceful together. James had his arm around her, and her bright head was resting on his shoulder as they watched the passers by. James murmured something and Lily laughed, her bright eyes lighting up, and after a few minutes the two of them got to their feet, and headed up the high street, hand in hand.

"Come on," Mary said, tearing her gaze away from them as we finished our drinks, and I reluctantly did the same. "Let's go to Honeydukes, it was so packed earlier we couldn't even get in the door."

Mary and I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting under a tree in a field just outside Hogsmeade, lazing in the Autumn sunlight, chatting, sharing sweets, and laughing at the effects of a new limited edition type of chocolate we had both bought, which caused the eater's hair and eyes to flash different colours. When we returned to Hogwarts several hours later, I was feeling happy, elated even. The date - if you could call it that - had gone much better than I'd expected, and I had had an immensely enjoyable afternoon. I did have a feeling, though, that our relationship was quite along way from being particularly romantic. I wasn't sure, as I was hardly an expert in such matters, and thought that things like that probably developed over time, but something in the back of my mind did tell me that Mary and I were never going to reach any great heights of passion. She may well have been of the same mind. In any case, she did not try to initiate anything, and made no attempt to steer the conversation away from our general chatter about our friends, Quidditch, and school work. I was relieved about this more than anything else, because I still had the unfortunate memory of what had happened the last time a girl had tried to kiss me, and I certainly didn't want to create any tension between us at that point.

On the way back, Mary joined up with Lily, presumably to ask her how things had gone with James, and James in turn came and walked beside me. Sirius and Peter must have gone back early, because there was no sign of them. I didn't need to ask James how it had gone. A broad smile was stretching from ear to ear. Almost at once, he launched into a long account of his day. He and Lily had wandered round the shops, gone for drinks, talked non-stop about pretty much everything. She had laughed at all his jokes, had not once insulted him, and had appreciated his new grown up and mature behaviour, or at least, he hoped she had. At the end of the afternoon, they had taken a walk up in the woods that boarded the village, before heading off by themselves to a secluded spot in one of the fields and - "Well, anyway you get the picture," James concluded, sweeping his hair back with his hand and grinning at me wickedly. "What about you?" he added, suddenly remembering that he had not been the only one with a female companion that day. "How was your date?"

I told him about my own day, confessing that although I had thoroughly enjoyed myself, I wasn't really sure you could call it a date. James listened closely, then shrugged and said, "You're right, it might come with time. Just see how it goes." I was heartened by this advice as the two of us walked back up to school in silence, James no doubt too immersed in his thoughts about Lily to want to continue talking.

"How did it go?" Sirius asked at once, as we entered the common room. He and Peter were sitting at a table playing Chess, but by the looks of things, Peter was winning, so I gathered that Sirius had not been paying any attention whatsoever to the game and had just been trying to pass the time until we came back.

"Fine," I said, smiling.

Sirius nodded at me and then turned to James. "And what about you? Did everything go as planned?"

James didn't answer, just lowered himself into the chair next to Sirius. Then his head turned towards the portrait hole as Lily herself entered the common room. She beamed at James and waved, before heading up to her dormitory to change for supper. James watched her go, his face split the same wide smile he had worn on our way back from Hogsmeade.

Sirius looked back at the table just as Peter wiped his last Chessman off the board. "I'll take that as a yes then," he said, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his genuine happiness for James as he tried and failed to suppress a grin.

**oOo**

While Mary and I maintained an increasingly warm friendship but not much more than that after the trip into Hogsmeade, the same could not be said for Lily and James. Their relationship progressed dramatically in the weeks that followed Halloween, and James was now so ecstatically happy that he had achieved what he had been trying to do for nearly seven years, that it was a wonder he could concentrate on his schoolwork at all.

"You know, you're becoming quite soppy," Sirius said in disgust one evening, after watching James return to the common room with Lily and kiss her goodnight, before coming over to us with an expression of complete contentment on his face.

"You'll see one day," James replied evenly, sitting down next to us and winking at me.

Sirius snorted. "I hope not," he said at once. "Not if it means that I have to wear an expression like yours on my face twenty-four, seven. I'm perfectly happy with my own way of doing things, thank you very much.

His "own way of doing things" consisted of changing girl pretty much every week, or every month if they were particularly good-looking. As he explained to us, he felt that with so many potential offers it would be a shame to waste a lot of perfectly good opportunities by being tied down. "Why have one, when you can have them all?" was his frequent saying. Lily, overhearing him one evening, eyed him disapproving and told him firmly that girls were not objects and he should have a better attitude towards the way he treated them, but in fairness to Sirius, the girls seemed to know exactly what they were getting themselves in for. I think the prospect of dating Sirius Black outweighed the downside of being unceremoniously dumped by Sirius Black a couple of weeks later.

Sirius frequently disappeared in the evenings to meet his latest girlfriend, often borrowing James' invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map, which we had managed to steal back from Filch's office on the last day of our sixth year, getting back well after midnight and recounting his evening to us if we were foolish enough to forget to feign sleep when he returned to the dormitory.

One cold evening at the end of November, however, he came into the common room unusually early, looking abashed. "You're going to kill me," he said. James eyed him suspiciously.

"Why, what have you done now?"

"Umm..I kind of..err…lost the map again." Sirius looked round at me and Peter guiltily. I could tell that for once he was genuinely ashamed of himself. James was glaring at him in dismay.

"You didn't! It took us ages to get it back! How did you manage that?"

"Well, I was with Olivia, in that passage behind the mirror, you know," Sirius immediately looked set to launch into one of his long rambling stories. "I thought we were safe, and we kind of got distracted, see she was-"

"Yeah ok, we really don't need the details," James said hurriedly, rolling his eyes. "Then what?"

"Well, we heard a noise, and we realised Filch was coming own the passage. We heard him muttering to Mrs Norris. So I pulled her under the cloak, but the map fell out of my pocket, and I didn't notice 'til Filch had picked it up. And he muttered something to the cat about having seen it before and went off with it."

"Had you wiped it?" James interjected at once.

Sirius nodded and James looked relieved

"Then it's simple," he said with a shrug. "We'll just go and get it again. It'll probably be in that drawer we got it from last time!"

Getting into Filch's office was unexpectedly easy. Only the next morning, we heard that he was on the warpath after a group of Ravenclaw third years, who had managed to blow up a toilet on the fifth floor, and we immediately made our way to his office to find that he had left the door unlocked. What's more, the blank parchment was lying on his desk. I guessed that he had discovered that it was indeed the same artifact he had confiscated from us before and had probably been trying to work out what it was and why we had been so keen to get it back. James cautiously approached the desk and reached out for the map, looking a little suspicious. Sirius was looking equally doubtful.

"I suppose that is the map?" he asked. "Not some kind of trap?"

James pulled out his wand, murmured, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and before our eyes, the map we knew so well materialized on the blank parchment.

"Well," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "That was eas-"

He broke off as we heard a wheezing behind us. We all whipped round to see that Filch had just appeared in the doorway, his eyes bulging with indignation at the sight of four students standing nonchalantly around his desk. James muttered "mischief managed" as quietly as he could and tapped the parchment with his wand behind his back.

"Ho!" Filch burst out. "As usual, Potter and Black. What is it this time? Dungbombs under my desk? Fanged Frisbees in the cupboard? Wailing water balloons above my door?" he was puce in the face now, almost spitting, so great was his fury. Peter shifted uncomfortably, and through the gap he left between myself and him Filch spotted the parchment on the table. His suspicious look increased, and storming round the table he snatched it up.

"Out!" he instructed angrily, waving the parchment in the air. "I have enough to worry about without you four sticking your arrogant little noses in everywhere. You'd all be in detention if I didn't have more urgent things to deal with. As for this, it's mine now. I don't ever want to see you in here again!"

"Do you even know what it is?" Sirius said belligerently. None of the students paid Filch much respect but it had to be said that Sirius was probably the furthest away from being an exception to this rule. Filch puffed up his chest.

"OUT! OR TWO WEEKS DETENTION," he roared. As we made for the door, Sirius was unable to resist a final remark.

"Want to watch out for that, Filch!" he said snidely.

"Very dangerous in the wrong hands," James added solemnly, as the four of us made a swift getaway from the room.

James and Sirius bickered on the way up to the common room.

"Well, that's torn it," Sirius grumbled. "Why did you say it was dangerous? He'll probably lock it away for good. We'll never get it back now."

"You were the one who started it!" James protested indignantly.

"I only said that he should be careful with it!"

"Which implies that it's dangerous."

"To someone with half a brain. But Filch doesn't even have that!"

"Look it doesn't really matter," James said, a little more calmly. "We know it by heart and Filch will never work out how to use it. I'm sure it'll fall into good hands eventually. Someone's bound to break into Filch's office and take a look around - it's happened enough times while we've been at school - and when they do they can find it and have their own fun with it."

Sirius was still looking unhappy. "But it's ours." He scowled. "Who knows who might come across it?"

James shrugged. "If someone finds out how to work the map, then they're worthy of owning it, in my opinion! And if they don't, it won't matter. Anyway, what use is it going to be once we've left school?"

"You could have given it to your children. Won't be long before you start producing mini James and Lilies at this rate." Sirius had an amused glint in his eye now but he still looked irritable. He hated being outsmarted, and the fact that it was Filch who had bested him was even worse. "We spent ages making it," he grumbled.

"Look," James said impatiently. "You lost it in the first place, remember?"

"Yeah but-"

"Come on, let's just drop it," I interrupted, fed up with the argument, as we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I'm sure it'll be for the best. Someone will find it in years to come. Maybe even James and Lily Junior!"

"I beg your pardon, Remus?" We turned to see Lily standing right behind us, her eyebrows raised and her hands on her hips, but her lips twitching in amusement.

"Oh, we were just talking about yours and James' future offspring," I said with a wicked grin. James sighed at me. He didn't normally have to worry about me making inappropriate comments. Sirius was the usual offender. Lily, to give her credit, did not look remotely alarmed, even though she and James had been going out for little under a month and, as far as I knew, had not yet gone beyond the kissing phase.

"Bit ahead of yourselves aren't you?" She said drily. "We've been on four dates! And I can assure you that regardless of how many dates we go on, no child of mine will be called James Junior!"

In spite of her matter-of-fact tone she was smirking as she turned to the Fat Lady and gave her the password.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, actually," Sirius said merrily as we all climbed through the portrait hole together. "I doubt I'll ever have kids - you know, commitment and all that - so can I name one of yours?"

Lily merely rolled her eyes as the rest of us suppressed smiles. "Miles ahead, Sirius!" She said briskly. "And the way things are looking right now, I doubt any of us will even live to have children."

"Yeah but can I if you do!" Sirius persisted, completely unperturbed by her flippancy surrounding the subject of our potential deaths. "I'll choose a really good one, I promise!"

"What, after some random star," James snorted in derisive amusement. Sirius glared at him. He was not at all fond of his name, and reminding him that he had, by the noble and ancient Black family tradition, been named after a constellation generally put him in a bad mood. He turned back to Lily instead.

"Can I though?" he said, nudging her. "And can I be Godfather as well? Go on, I'll be good at that!"

"Sure, why not," Lily said with a grin, winking at James. Sirius's mouth fell open. It was plain that he had just been winding her up to produce a snappy retort and her cheerful compliance had wrong-footed him. He turned to gape at James as Lily went to put her books in her dormitory.

"How the hell have you gone from arrogant toerag to potential father of her children in the space of a few months?"

"I _think_ she was joking, Sirius," I pointed out. "She probably would have agreed to _give_ you her child if it shut you up!"

James merely grinned at us as he sank into a chair.

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" he said.

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><p>Please review x<p> 


	15. The Taming of the Stag

Summary and disclaimer in previous chapters.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>

The Taming of the Stag

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><p>In spite of Sirius's constant moans that James was becoming "soppy and sentimental", and that he never saw him any more, none of us could help but notice that the more time James spent in Lily's company, the nicer he seemed to become, and more respect she seemed to have for him in return. They still had their spats, of course, and at first it wasn't at all uncommon to see Lily scowling across the common room because of something immature or stupid that James had said or done. But, as time went on, these moments became fewer and further between, and we were far more likely to walk in on them kissing in an abandoned classroom than to see them fighting, which was what Sirius and I had the misfortune of doing a week before the Christmas holidays, looking for an empty space to "practice some spells," which was Sirius's code for "plan a lot of mischief". In spite of his coming of age, Sirius, unlike James, did not seem to be showing any signs of maturity. Indeed, with his partner in crime now so regularly absent, Sirius was doubling his efforts to cause trouble, and for every day that James grew a little more mature, Sirius became a little more restless and bored. He looked forward to the full moons more than any of us, mainly because these were now among the only occasions when James would agree to breaking rules, and in order to let out some of his pent up frustration Sirius would spend a great deal of time discussing our forthcoming adventures with me at length.<p>

It was just the two of us - Peter having insisted on staying in the library to revise - when we opened the door to the History of Magic classroom that evening, intending to discuss the coming full moon, only to find Lily and James locked in a tight embrace and looking far too occupied to want to have anything to do with what Sirius and I were planning. Had it been me on my own I would have simply walked out and left them to it. Sirius however, had other ideas, and gave a loud wolf-whistle that made them jump hurriedly apart and look round at the two of us standing in the doorway, their expressions turning from embarrassment to annoyance when they saw who had just interrupted them. "Oh it's you," said James. "Would you mind leaving us in peace?"

"It's hardly peaceful what you're going to be doing!" muttered Sirius, "and can't you come with us for a bit? I've hardly seen you recently and we want to talk about err- stuff."

"I'm a bit busy," said James pointedly, clearly just wanting us to get out and leave him and Lily alone. "We can talk later. Why don't you ask Peter?"

"He's buried in a mountain of work at the library," Sirius replied with a scowl. "And he's no fun at the moment, he's all stressed about his NEWTS. He's such a worrier, they're not for months, and they're such a piece of cake anyway! I could practically do them in my sleep."

Lily, who had been watching calmly, suddenly exploded. Her eyes flashed as she glared at Sirius and said angrily; "Just get out Sirius! Just because you find everything incredibly easy and can do everything perfectly doesn't mean we all can! You could at least help Peter if you've done all your work in two seconds. He was looking really worried when I last saw him!"

Sirius, not used to being the prime target of Lily's temper, a position that had previously been reserved for James, looked quite shocked. "Ok chill out!" he said, then turned to me and muttered in an undertone which was unfortunately loud enough for Lily to hear. "I suppose we'd better leave them to get back down to it, it's supposedly good stress relief! Some of us apparently need it!"

For someone who could easily be top of the year when he felt like it, Sirius could be incredibly thick at times. As he turned away, Lily, livid, sent a yellow jet of light flying through the air towards the back of Sirius's head, and I saw a look of satisfaction cross her face as a noticeable bump appeared under his sleek black hair and he gave a cry of pain. Behind the triumphant look however, I thought I saw a sparkle in her eyes which wasn't caused by fury or the reflection of the yellow sparks, and her voice trembled with something other than anger as she told Sirius again to leave them alone. This time, Sirius quickly obeyed without a word and I gave Lily an apologetic look before following him.

"What's got into everyone?" Sirius said afterwards, rubbing the back of his head. "Seriously, this really hurts!"

"Well, you really should have learnt by now that annoying Lily never ends well," I said, suppressing a laugh. "And she is right you know. It is infuriating that you find everything so easy, so you could at least shut up about it!"

I felt a slight satisfaction at Sirius's contrite look and he had the grace to mutter an apology. Finally, after seven years, my comments were occasionally getting through to him. He compromised by grumbling as we made our way back to the dormitory. "I never see him anymore! He's always with Lily. And since when did she get so wound up about everything?"

"I think she was upset about something else," I mused, thinking back to Lily's distressed face. She had been subjected to Sirius's gloating about how easy work was for many years now, just like the rest of us. I was sure that there had to be something else bothering her. "She wasn't looking too happy in class this morning." I made a mental note to talk to her the next time I could get her away from James, who, for all his recent improvements in behaviour, was still at the stage where kissing was far more interesting than talking. I had a feeling that after we'd left the room he would not have thought to ask Lily if there was anything else wrong, but would have just picked up where they had left off.

Sirius was still moaning about not seeing James. "You could just get a girlfriend too," I reminded him. "You're hardly short of offers. And I'm sorry I'm such poor company," I added jokingly.

"You know that's not what I mean, and for your information I got with three girls last week," Sirius retorted. "And one the week before. And I'm going out tomorrow with that girl from Ravenclaw I went out with back in November! Catherine, I think?"

"You mean Tabitha?" I corrected him with an amused sigh. "Really? You're going out with her again? Getting serious and ready to settle down maybe!"

Sirius snorted. "Not likely," he said. "Why would I want to? Why pay the price for the long term deal when you can get an infinite number of free samples? That's my motto."

"Yes, I know," I smiled, suddenly wondering what it must be like to be Sirius, to have a constant string of girls desperate to go out with him, to find everything in life so ridiculously easy and to never seem to put a foot wrong. Sirius had a strange ability to not have to bother about the things that most of us deemed essential, and most of the time everything worked out fine for him anyway, something I couldn't help but be envious of. However much I was enjoying life, it had to be said that it didn't fall into place around me, the way Sirius's did.

Sirius had finally stopped muttering under his breath when James came back to the common room an hour later without Lily. "Is she ok?" Sirius asked, looking a little guilty, clearly ashamed of his earlier comments. "Yeah of course," James said, looking surprised. "She just went to get some books from the library and she said she had a letter to send. Why wouldn't she be?" he grinned at the two of us wickedly. "Trust me Sirius, she didn't give you much thought after you'd left. Well, I certainly hope she didn't anyway!"

I thought back to the tears I thought I'd seen in Lily's eyes and wondered if I had been right. Had she been upset about something else or had Sirius just gone one step too far again? James went upstairs to change and Sirius followed, but I stayed sitting and after a while Lily came through the portrait hole. She looked slightly pale and tired but smiled at me as she walked across to our corner of the room and sat down in the chair next to me.

"Are you alright?" I asked. She nodded, then shrugged, then shook her head and I was startled to see big tears appear in her green eyes. She turned away in embarrassment and I tentatively touched her on the shoulder.

"Come on, don't cry." I said, suddenly regretting not going upstairs with the others. "Do you want me to get James?" She shook her head and buried her head in her hands as a muffled sob escaped her.

A few second year girls were gawking at us from a sofa nearby. Lily Evans, the famous head girl, losing her composure was a rare occurrence and I felt awkward with them staring at us both.

"Do you want to talk?" I offered weakly, sure that she would just shake her head and go upstairs, but to my surprise and slight unease she nodded. "Not here though," she said, drying her eyes with a loud sniff, then staring round at the girls now looking at both of us, all of whom buried themselves in their books at once with pink cheeks. "Can we go somewhere else?"

We walked out of the common room and down the corridor to a small room that we'd occasionally use to practice jinxes in. Lily sat down at the nearest desk and stared blankly into space. I hovered next to her awkwardly.

"Is it James?" I said at last, breaking the silence, suddenly terrified that Lily wasn't happy with him; that I had given her bad advice before, and that I would now have an unhappy Lily and a distraught James to deal with. But Lily was shaking her head. "No, no, it's nothing to do with James, everything's going really well actually on that front. It's Petunia-" She broke off, her lips trembling.

"Your sister?" I said, remembering the conversation we had had in the library a few months before. Lily nodded and then to my distress she suddenly started sobbing. At a loss, I went to her and put an arm around her, not knowing what else to do or say. Part of me felt guilty. It felt like a betrayal to James to be so close to his girlfriend when she was this upset. Another part of me felt incredibly uncomfortable. I had no idea what to say to girls in general, let alone when they were emotional. But this wasn't just any girl. It was Lily, she was my friend, my best friend's girlfriend and she'd wanted to talk. I knew I had to comfort her, so I let cry until she dried her eyes, drew back a little, and started to explain.

"She's getting married," Lily began quietly, sadly wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" I asked, rather surprised at her reaction. "I remember you saying you didn't like her boyfriend, but if she's happy-"

Lily shook her head again, a couple more stray tears running down her cheeks. "No, no it's not that. She- she doesn't want me at the wedding."

I gaped at her, astonished. Lily had told me that Petunia resented her for being magical, and for getting attention, but I hadn't realised that the dislike went that deep.

"I got an owl from Mum the other day," said Lily, "asking whether I had exams on June 18th or whether I'd be able to come home, and saying that she really hoped I could because it was such an important day for Petunia. And I didn't know what she was talking about. And then when I'd found out I wrote to Petunia to congratulate her, and I- I got a letter this morning, saying – saying-" she looked like she was going to break down again, but managed to pull herself together enough to finish her sentence, "she doesn't want me at the wedding, she wants me to stay at school and just – just "get on with my freaky life and leave her and Vernon in peace.""

My heart went out to her as I stared at her stricken face, and I suddenly wondered how _anybody_ could dislike her that much, let alone her own sister.

"I just don't know what to do", Lily said desperately, "It's my sister's wedding, I have to be there! Yeah, we've had our fights, but what siblings haven't? I know that I love her deep down, and I always thought she must feel the same about me. But now I realize that she doesn't."

"Lily," I said softly, "I'm really not very good at giving advice, but I think maybe if you give Petunia some space, and some time, she'll realize that she does want you there really, and that she's being ridiculous. The wedding's not for another five months. From what you told me it sounds like she's angry at the moment, and she's feeling resentful, but I'm sure that will pass."

Lily shrugged, "Maybe, it's just so hard. If it was my wedding I'd want her there. She probably wouldn't come but I'd want her to be there all the same."

"I think you should just give it time," I said, trying to be wise but feeling like an idiot. "Maybe write to her and tell her you're happy for her no matter what and then just let her come around on her own."

"She's very stubborn," said Lily morosely. "I think she's scared that if I'm there I'll take all the attention even when the day's about her. But maybe you're right." She fixed a determined smile to her face and gave me a warm hug. "Yes, I'm sure you're right! I need to stop being silly! You're a good friend, Remus."

I blushed foolishly, but was warmed by the compliment. "And you are good at giving advice," she said, the broad smile now returned to her face. "That's why I knew it would help if I talked to you. I needed a fresh perspective, and you're good at that!"

"Well, sure, if you're comparing me to Sirius and James," I replied, smiling, thinking how tactless my two friends could be at times.

Lily grinned too, "Yeah they can be idiots, especially Sirius, and James wasn't exactly helpful this morning when I told him about Petunia. But still," she bit her lip, trying and failing to hide her renewed happy expression as the subject of James came up, "mostly it's going well!"

"You did seem pretty happy earlier," I teased, and she actually laughed. "Something else I have your advice to thank for," she said gratefully, as she got up and we made our way to the door.

James and Sirius looked mystified when Lily and I returned together, Lily looking happy in spite of her red eyes. "What were you two doing?" James asked suspiciously.

"Just paying our own visit to the classroom we were in earlier, Remus thought it looked fun," Lily said cheekily, but I gave a sharp nudge with my elbow as James looked murderous. The prospect of losing Lily to another man was not something that even we should joke about with James.

"Oh come on, you know I'm joking! I just needed some help with my charms essay," Lily said, giving me a grateful smile. "Anyway, I'm going to bed. Night." She kissed a confused-looking James, waved at Sirius and headed upstairs.

"What were you really doing?" James asked me.

"Nothing!" I protested.

"Oh, don't give me that," James dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "I've come to know when she's not being entirely truthful. And while I don't suspect for a moment that the two of you were snogging on Binns' desk, I also know that you were not helping her with her charms essay. For one thing she insisted on finishing it earlier, before we could – anyway, never mind, what were you doing?"

I told him how upset Lily had been, and James looked a little sheepish. "Yeah she did mention it to me earlier, but when I gave her my opinion she got angry. What did you say to make her so happy?"

"I just told her to back off a little bit, and give it time and that maybe Petunia would come round," I replied.

"That's what I said!" exclaimed James indignantly, "and she got all offended and stormed off! Really, I don't understand girls sometimes!"

"Really, you said that?" I said, doubt in my voice.

"Well, not using those exact words," said James defensively, and I raised an eyebrow. "I said Petunia was a moody bitch and she was better off without her," he admitted grudgingly, "but it amounts to the same thing." I gave a sigh of despair and James looked guiltily at me. "Ok, ok, point taken, it wasn't the cleverest thing to say. I'll apologise to her in the morning." He groaned and muttered under his breath, "How on earth did _you_ manage to become so tactful with girls!"

I noticed Sirius's eyes widen visibly at James' forthright comment but before I could process the words and feel offended in any way James suddenly looked up, completely mortified. "I'm sorry Remus, that wasn't supposed to mean anything about you, it really truly wasn't. I just meant that, well, you know, I can be an idiot and – well-"

"How are things with Mary anyway?" Sirius interrupted. "Better change the subject before James' foot gets stuck in his mouth forever!"

I chuckled. "I'm really not tactful with girls," I reassured James. "I felt like such an idiot trying to give her advice! And with Mary it's the same as ever really. We get along, we chat, we have a good time…"

Sirius nodded. "Then you say goodbye!" he finished, and we all laughed.

Things had not progressed very far or very fast since our date in October, but we had continued to see each other occasionally and I really was having fun in her company. Neither of us seemed enveloped by the great whirlwind of feelings that Lily and James had become caught up in over the past couple of months but, for now at any rate, that was fine by me.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	16. Make and Break

**Summary and disclaimer in previous chapters**

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

Make and Break

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><p>A week later, however, something changed, during an impromptu Christmas party that was thrown in our common room on our last evening of the term. Sirius and James sneaked into Hogsmeade through the secret tunnel and returned with a dozen crates of butterbeer and several bottles of firewhisky, put on some music, decorated the whole room with a flick of their wands and encouraged everyone to join in the fun.<p>

Several drinks later I was feeling pretty tipsy, when I saw Mary sitting in an armchair on the other side of the common room and, feeling extremely bold, marched over with the intention of asking her to dance. I ended up tripping on an empty butterbeer bottle which someone had left on the floor, and my intended elegant approach resulted in a flailing attempt not to fall on top of her. Mary, however, appeared to be in a state that was very similar to my own, and merely beamed at me as I fell against the arm of her chair. "Remus!" she exclaimed, her voice several pitches higher than normal. "Sit down!" she indicated the chair next to her, and dropped her drink in the process. I laughed as I retrieved the bottle and cleared up the spilled liquid with my wand. "How many bottles of that have you had?" I asked interestedly.

"I'm not sure," she mused, suddenly staring at the drink very seriously. "Quite a few if you include that one!"

"So I see," I said in amusement, perching myself on the arm of the chair.

"Oh look!" she pointed upwards and I saw, directly above our heads, a little sprig of mistletoe forming in the air. I was quite confused, until I looked round and saw James grinning at me from the other side of the room as he tucked his wand back inside his robes and turned back to his girlfriend, winking at me as he did so. I considered feeling indignant, decided I couldn't be bothered and that it would do no good anyway, and turned back to Mary, who was still gazing, transfixed, at the mistletoe. "Does this mean we're supposed to kiss?" she asked, turning to me with the serious expression still on her face. "I think it does," I replied solemnly, sinking into the chair beside her, and we spent the next hour or so kissing in the armchair, completely unaware of what was going on around us.

"You had a good night then?" Sirius said in amusement, once I'd finally said goodnight and headed upstairs to the dormitory.

"Pretty good!" I agreed, sinking down onto my bed. "I do really like her, you know. She's really sweet and she's fun. It's just- well, you know- I can't exactly be with her properly, not with-" I trailed off as I saw Sirius and Peter staring at me incredulously.

"You're not _still_ worried about that?" Sirius said, in some astonishment.

"Sirius, it's kind of a lifelong thing," I exclaimed in frustration. My friends' support had meant everything to me over the last six years, but they still failed to understand how my condition made me feel when it came to my relationships with other people who, unlike them, had no idea what I was and would probably shun me the second they discovered the truth.

"I just mean... you don't still think that because you transform into a crazy animal once a month you can't have a proper girlfriend? Because if you do, then that's what's crazy, Remus!" Peter nodded in agreement and James, who'd just walked in and heard the end of the conversation, laughed and said "I'm not sure you have a choice in the matter anyway. I've spent the last twenty minutes listening to two drunk girls ramble on about double dating, so Remus my friend, looks like you're stuck with a girlfriend for the moment whether you think you can have one or not."

I wasn't sure how to take the news. Up until then Mary had been my friend, my date, or even the girl I was going out with, but she had never been my girlfriend. Still, maybe Sirius was right. I knew I wasn't ready to tell her my secret, but there was no reason why we couldn't have a normal relationship for the time being. I said a long, enjoyable goodbye to her the next morning as she left for the holidays, a warm feeling spreading through me as I thought of seeing her again in two weeks time.

And so, for the few months that followed the Christmas holidays, Mary and I spent a considerable amount of time together, occasionally going on a proper date into Hogsmeade, but mostly just enjoying a break together in between revision or, when the weather permitted it, finding a quiet spot in the Hogwarts grounds to get a bit more privacy. I grew unbelievably fond of her as time went on, a feeling that she appeared to reciprocate. If it hadn't been for the somewhat obligatory disappearances every month I have no doubt that our relationship could have lasted a lot longer than it did. But as the months wore on, she became increasingly suspicious of my absences, my constant visits to the hospital wing, the bruises that I sometimes sustained from the nights of transformation, and although she did not persist when I brushed away her concerned questions, I could tell she was hurt that I was not confiding in her and that it was only going to be a matter of time until things came to a head.

**oOo**

It wasn't so much an argument - neither of us were really the argumentative sort – but it broke out one cool afternoon in late April, after we had been taking a walk around the lake, and I mentioned that I had to go and see the nurse about something. She suddenly turned to me and said heatedly, "Come on Remus, what's going on? Why all these visits to the hospital wing? Are you ill?"

Feeling awkward, I looked away from her suspicious gaze, merely shrugging and muttering something about it not being important.

Mary sounded even more frustrated as she replied. "It _must_ be important, it happens every month!" I refused to look her at her and she sighed impatiently. "Seriously, are you ill? Are you hurt?" Her voice was trembling now and, unable to bear the thought of her crying, I turned back to her hastily, although I still couldn't quite bring myself to look her directly in the eyes.

"Mary, please don't worry about it," I said, in what I hoped was a placating sort of voice. "I'm fine, honestly! It's just something I have to do, that's all."

"But why can't you just tell me _what_?" She burst out. "Your other friends know! Sirius and James... and Peter! And I'm pretty sure Lily does too, because she changes the subject whenever I bring it up! So if they know, why can't you just tell me too?"

I stared at her mutely, feeling guilty and sad, but knowing that I simply couldn't tell her. It wasn't that I was afraid she would tell other people, because she was about as trustworthy as a person could get, but what if she didn't understand? What if she was horrified and disgusted and refused to have anything more to do with me? I had become so accustomed to receiving her kindly smile and affectionate gaze that I couldn't stand the thought of that changing.

"You don't trust me do you?" she said, her eyes filled with sadness as I finally found the courage to look into them. Still, I had no idea what to say, and although I tried to speak, no words left my mouth. Eventually she broke the gaze and looked moodily down at the floor. "I'm not sure this is working, you know," she muttered. She looked like she was going to add to this, but then she just turned and walked away, leaving me standing by the lake, torn between feelings of guilt and worry, shivering in a sudden cool breeze.

**oOo**

"So why don't you just tell her?" James said that night, after I'd explained the issue to them as we were getting ready to go to bed.

"I can't!" I exclaimed, glaring at James as anger and frustration nearly got the better of me.

"Why?" James persisted calmly. "You do trust her don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do," I said, forcing myself to calm down. No good could come of me taking this out on my friends. "I know she wouldn't tell anyone, and she might even still like me. But I just don't want her to know. It would change everything between us."

"Maybe, but if you break up because you can't tell her then that changes things too," said James pointedly.

I said nothing else, merely rolled over and pretended to go to sleep, but I was still awake long after my three friends started snoring, and I lay there, staring at the red hangings of my bed, running everything over in my mind.

Mary didn't speak to me all weekend, but on the Monday morning she found me and apologized. "It's none of my business," she said, giving me a hug. "And I'm sorry. I just want you to be all right and it makes me sad to think that you don't trust me."

"Mary, I do trust you," I said desperately. "I really do. This is just different. It's hasn't really got anything to do with trust." My words sounded feeble and empty and I had a feeling that Mary thought so too, but she merely shrugged and nodded. "So, are we ok?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes," she said, kissing me gently. "We're ok."

But somehow, after that, things were never really ok again. Mary knew I was hiding something, and I knew she resented the fact that I couldn't tell her. She didn't press the subject, nor did she make any attempts to find out what was going on of her own accord like my friends had done, but although we didn't argue, I felt us growing increasingly distant with one another. I was sad because I knew I was losing her, but in spite of everything I still couldn't bring myself to tell her my most guarded secret. As exams approached, we saw each other less and less, using the pretence of having too much work to do, but deep down I knew that homework was just an excuse, and for about the ten thousandth time I thought bitterly how different my life would be if it hadn't been for one horrible night when I was a young boy.

Then, a couple of weeks before our exams, she came to me looking nervous. "I've had a job offer," she said quietly, indicating a piece of parchment in her hand.

"That's great!" I exclaimed, genuinely happy for her, even though my own search for a job was still proving fruitless. "It's in America," she went on, "working in the international office of their sorcerer's council. It's such a good offer, I can't turn it down."

"Well of course not!" I said. "That's amazing! Well done!"

I gave her a hug, which she returned, but she continued to look serious as she pulled away, and suddenly, before she got the words out, I knew what was coming. "You want to end it, don't you?" I said, feeling a dull ache emerge in my chest. Mary looked stricken. "I-I don't know," she said miserably. "Everything's so confusing, and I really don't know what I want right now, but I have thought, recently, that maybe this isn't working. We hardly spend any time together anymore, and now with us finishing school and the war and this job and me going away and-"

I cut her rambling off abruptly with a kiss, one which I knew, with another horrible ache of sadness, would be our last. I knew that things had irreversibly changed between us and because of my stubbornness I'd lost someone with whom I otherwise might have had a lasting relationship with. "It's fine," I said, feeling anything but fine, as we pulled apart. "I think you're right."

"You do?" Mary seemed quite shocked. I realised how confusing and offensive my apparently indifferent reaction to the idea of breaking up must seem, and hastily tried to redeem myself. "I just mean – well, I do... I think you're lovely," I said awkwardly, "and I like being with you and we've had a lot of fun... but I don't know what I'm going to do next year, and you've got this incredible opportunity. And you're right. Recently it's been so – well - strained between us. That wouldn't improve with everything that'll be going on when we leave school."

"I know," she murmured. "I think that too. I'm sorry."

"So am I," I said, meaning it from the bottom of my heart, trying to tell her without actually saying the words how bad I felt that I had not been able to bring myself to confide in her.

"Friends?" I offered, hesitantly, trying not to let the sadness I felt show on my face.

"Friends," she agreed, and I knew there was nothing more to say. She returned the smile with a tiny twitch of her lips, and we walked in silence down to breakfast.

As sombre as we both felt, Lily's beaming face when we got down to the great hall lifted our spirits. She had a letter in her hand. "What's that?" I asked, at first a little apprehensively. Many students had received letters of bad news recently, but looking again at Lily's smiling face I guessed it couldn't be that.

"It's a wedding invitation," Lily said delightedly. "From Petunia. And a letter saying that she would really like me to be there. Mum probably had something to do with that, but I can pretend that's not true!"

Mary threw her arms around her friend at once, and smiled at me as they pulled apart again, all sadness or bitterness forgotten in Lily's happiness. James leaned over to kiss her cheek, and Sirius and Peter grinned at her. Suddenly, just for a second, I forgot about everything; our approaching exams, the war, my condition, my break up with Mary. Our group of friends suddenly seemed to bask in Lily's warm smile, and that moment, however brief it may have been, marks a moment in my life where everything seemed in its rightful place, in spite of everything that was going on outside the walls of the school, and the darkness that was waiting for us just around the corner.

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><p>Please give me your thoughts :)<p> 


	17. The Enveloping Darkness

**Disclaimer: **Not mine

Thanks for the reviews!

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

The Enveloping Darkness

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><p>Good moments like that became almost non-existent in the weeks that followed. Exams were soon upon us and everyone in our year was either sat in silence in front of their books all day, trying to cram as much information as possible into their heads, or else panicking over what spells they had or hadn't yet learnt. Even Sirius had occasionally been spotted with a book open in front of him and Peter appeared almost dead from the pressure. But, relieved as I would be when the exams were over, I couldn't help wanting every day to go by as slowly as possible. Each hour that passed was one step closer to our last day at Hogwarts, and I was dreading that moment. Things in the wizarding world were looking grim, and Voldemort was gaining power by the day now, with more than twenty attacks being reported each week. Every morning, as the owls soared through the Great Hall, every student would raise a frightened face towards them, hoping against hope that there was nothing for them. When devastating news <em>was<em> brought to a fellow student, the rest of the hall would stare in horrified sympathy as they exited the room with a pale face and downcast eyes, often holding a yellow envelope stamped with the purple Ministry of Magic seal in their hand. This was the Ministry's way of informing people of deaths in their families at the hands of Voldemorts' supporters. It was no doubt an effective way of breaking news, but it had to be said that it added a new dimension of dread to the arrival of the morning post.

As the exams drew to a close, the atmosphere among the seventh years relaxed ever so slightly. "Five weeks," said Sirius smiling. "Five weeks to enjoy ourselves, laze around, do whatever we like, before we-"

"Go out into the world and have to face Voldemort," I muttered.

"Stop having such a bleak outlook," Sirius chided. "We'll be fine. We've all got jobs to go to, we know how to defend ourselves. The thing is to stay positive."

"Hmm," I said, unconvinced. Sirius's don't-care attitude was worrying at times.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on out there," Sirius said, as if he'd read my thoughts. "Because I do. You don't grow up in the Black family without realizing the terrible things that can be done by wizards who fall to the dark side. But worrying about it really isn't going to help, so let's just enjoy this last month at Hogwarts."

I couldn't help but be uplifted by Sirius's words, but our good spirits lasted for about a week. And then, out of nowhere, our world started crumbling around us.

**oOo**

James was the first to receive bad news. We were having breakfast one morning when a brown owl soared down and dropped a letter in front of him. Sirius, Peter and I all froze, and James went several shades paler than normal. He reached out for the letter and turned it over with a shaking hand, and I felt the knot of anxiety in my chest ease slightly. "It doesn't have a ministry seal," Sirius said quietly. James still looked scared. "It's from Mum," he said. He and Sirius exchanged a strange look, one that held a knowing apprehension as James opened the envelope and scanned the letter with an increasingly grave expression. None of us dared to ask what was wrong. Then, looking distressed, he got up without a word.

Sirius swore under his breath. "I hope things are ok," he said.

"He'd have a Ministry letter if someone had died," Peter said.

"Not necessarily," I countered, my voice strained. "The letter only comes to the student if both parents- " I swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. "Maybe we should go and find him?"

"It might be better not to just now," said Sirius. "He'll tell us when he's ready."

But when we got back to Gryffindor common room half an hour later, we found James sitting in a chair, Lily beside him with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and James, with a rather dazed expression on his face, answered our unasked questions as soon as we reached him.

"It's my Dad," he said. My heart skipped a beat and Peter and Sirius were looking very apprehensive. "He's alive," he reassured us. "And it's nothing to do with Voldemort, which is small comfort but I guess it's a comfort all the same." He took a deep breath. "My Dad's very ill. He's been ill for years actually, so has Mum, but you wouldn't really have known it. It's an old wizard illness, pretty rare now, which can lie dormant for years and then suddenly become really serious. And that's what's happened. In the last couple of weeks he's suddenly got a lot worse. Ther-" his voice shook. "There's no cure. The Healers have given him a couple of months." He closed his eyes to hide the tears as Lily tightened her arms around him, trying in vain to make the pain and sadness disappear.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. Sirius seemed beyond speaking, his own face shadowed with grief. I knew that James' parents meant a lot to him, a great deal more than his own family did, and the news was a huge shock to him too. We stayed there for a while, trying to let James know how sorry we were. After a while, Lily smiled tightly and made a slight gesture, indicating that we should go, and we left the two of them alone.

"It's horrible," Sirius said quietly, when we'd reached the privacy of the dormitory. Then, in fury, he drove his fist into his pillow. "Why the hell couldn't it have been my parents? Would hardly be a loss!"

My eyes widened. "You don't mean that," I said, trying to calm him down. "You wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Oh believe me, I do," spat Sirius vehemently. "And I would if it meant that better people got to live. It's so unfair! You couldn't find a nicer couple than the Potters. My parents are up to their eyeballs in dark magic and pure-blood rubbish and the world would quite frankly be better off without them! They probably wouldn't even care if they got some horrible disease. Would just be yet another claim to add to the _noble_ name of Black! It's widely thought that only pure-bloods can contract the illness James' parents have got," he added, in response to mine and Peter's confused looks.

"You knew then?" I asked, and he nodded. "James told me ages ago, back in third year. It just came up really, it wasn't a secret or anything, but no one really wanted to think about it so we didn't talk about it again. I think it's always been at the back of their minds though. You could tell sometimes, when I stayed with them in the holidays, that they were wondering how long they had left." I thought back to the summer, how much the Potters had doted on James, how they always gave him what he wanted, were never too tired or too busy to spend time with him. That must be why, I realised. They knew they only had a limited amount of time to spend with their only son.

Outwardly, James recovered quickly from the shock, and when I talked to him later, he told me that he'd always known that it was only a matter of time before he got the news. "They told me about it when I was ten," he said. "I've tried to prepare myself for it, and it wasn't as big a shock as it could have been because I've known for years." He smiled bravely. "He's got a bit of time. We'll just have to make it count!" But we all knew that inwardly, he was very shaken up, and in the days that followed the arrival of the letter he was extremely quiet. The news affected all of us. Lily barely left his side. Sirius, possibly for the first time since I'd known him, was incredibly careful about what he said. There were no flippant comments about death, or Voldemort, and he even managed to suppress the anger that he had shown back in the dormitory after James had got the news, for which I was relieved. The last thing James needed to hear was Sirius's rant against his own parents and how he wished they were dying instead.

**oOo**

James had barely begun to come to terms with his own tragic news when a devastating blow came for me as well. And for me it _did_ come in the form of a thick yellow envelope, brought to the breakfast table by a regal looking tawny owl. One look at the envelope in front of me was enough to see the deep purple embossed symbol, no doubt stamped on a few hours previously by a Ministry of Magic official in matching purple robes.

Peters hand flew to his mouth in horror. James' eyes met mine across the table, filled with nothing but pity and compassion. Sirius buried his face in his hands and Lily, who had just sad down, gave a shaky little gasp. "Remus-" she began in a whisper.

I couldn't do this with all my friends watching. With a heavy heart I took the letter and stood up. Eyes seemed to burn into my back and whispers fell on my ears like the sound of hissing snakes as I walked past the tables, into the entrance hall, up the stairs, and finally collapsed on my bed in the dormitory. It took me a quarter of an hour before I could bring myself to open the envelope, even though I already knew what it contained. With blurred eyes I scanned the parchment. The letter was brief and perfunctory, and expressed the obligatory condolences, which did not bring a shred of comfort to me. But the message was clear. My parents were dead. Death Eaters had attacked their home the night before. The house was destroyed. My parents' names had been engraved on the huge golden board in the Hall of Honour at the ministry, which had been erected the previous year as a tribute to those who had died fighting and an inspiration for those who continued to do so. Viewing times for relatives were written at the bottom of the letter.

After what seemed like hours, a noise at the door told me that my friends had come to find me. If the envelope hadn't confirmed to them what had happened then one look at my face was enough. I felt James's hand rest on my shoulder, Lily's hand slipping through my own, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Sirius and Peter sitting on the neighbouring bed, their faces stricken with sorrow at my loss. Then, for a long time, we just sat in silence. We all knew that there were no words which could help in this situation, nothing that could instantly make the grief disappear, but I appreciated their presence, and tried to draw comfort from the fact that I was still not alone. Even in this desperate time, I held onto the fact that I still had my friends.

That weekend I went to see my house, the place I had called my home since I was six years old. I didn't know why I was compelled to go anywhere near it, but what I did know was that I never wanted to set foot in the pristine hall at the Ministry, with its shining golden board displaying name after name in elegant swirly letters. I knew my father would have put up a fight, and I wanted to see the raw evidence of this. I wanted to appreciate what he had done as an individual trying to defend his family and home, not as a glorified name used alongside hundreds of others as a tool to spur on the Wizarding world.

From the outside, the house did not look to bad, but the door was off its hinges and as I walked through the doorway my breath caught in my throat. The interior was completely destroyed. Smashed glass and splinters of wood littered the floor and stones crumbled from the walls. Pipes had been burst and the floor was covered in water. At least, I thought with a surge of pride, my father had put up a brilliant fight, no doubt trying to protect my mother, who he loved with all his heart, in spite of the many strains their relationship had had to bear over the years. I thought of my mother, her worn but caring face that had stayed beside me so many times as a child, trying to take away the pain. I thought of my father, telling me about Hogwarts, always trying to protect me, relentlessly doing his duty no matter what it took, and my legs gave way beneath me as I sunk into what remained of an old armchair, put my face in my hands, and let the tears seep through my fingers.

**oOo**

The last couple of weeks of term were therefore not the gloriously relaxed days that Sirius had predicted, but rather an extremely grim, grief-ridden time. The four of us and Lily became inseparable, determined to be strong for each other, and I found that Mary was also a huge support to me. She came to find me once I'd got back from the house, immediately put her arms around me and told me how sorry she was, and that if I needed to talk she would be there. To my surprise I found myself talking to her for a long time, for she was sympathetic, and compassionate, and her kindness made me feel even guiltier that I had never been able to bring myself to confide in her about being a werewolf. But that was just the way it was, and I knew that although there may have been a moment when I could have told her, and maybe even have gained her understanding and acceptance, that moment had passed now. I had pushed her away, and in spite of the time we spent together after my parents' death, I would never again have a chance to utter the words which might have, at one time, removed the invisible barrier between us and brought us into a closer, truly loving relationship. We were too near the parting of our ways which would inevitably be brought about by the end of school and what had happened between us was now nothing more than a memory of a teenage romance, irreversible and unalterable.

At the end of term, Dumbledore addressed the whole school. There was no twinkle in his eyes as they searched the hall, taking in each individual expression on every terrified face. "As you know, we have been at war now for many years," he told us gravely. "A war that continues to escalate and becomes more serious by the day. Many of you have received terrible news in these last months. Many more of you will receive it in the weeks to come. To everyone here who has experienced loss, however great or small, you have my sincerest sympathies. My thoughts are with you and your families at such a terrible time as this."

His voice was calm but there was something pointed about its tone as it rang through the dead silence in the hall, laboring every syllable of his speech.

"War is upon us. It is here, all around us, and it is inescapable. Voldemort now reaches a height of power that is almost unheard of from any other wizard in history, and for every day he gains strength, other people fall against his power and bend to his will. I therefore ask each and every one of you to find the courage within you to fight against him. This does not mean take risks, nor does it mean put yourselves in needless danger. I ask you simply to remember who you are and what you believe in, and to stay united with your friends and family. The more you put all your heart into doing this, the more chance there is of seeing all of you who are to return to Hogwarts back in this hall in September." There were murmurings at this, and Dumbledore had to raise his voice a little to drown them as he continued.

"For those of you who are to leave the school in a week," his blue eyes looked directly over to where I was sitting with my friends, "know this. The magic of this castle gives you a great protection while you remain within its walls. Do not be lulled into a false sense of security because of this. This is not a time for risk taking, or glory hunting. This is a time where we must pull together and work with each other if we are to have any chance of surviving the evil that has arisen in the world around us. Help will never be refused to someone who has been part of Hogwarts if they ask for it, but you must understand that this help does not and cannot mean eternal protection. It is down to you, as individuals, to defend yourselves, and to fight for the lives of those you love. I wish every one of you luck, wherever your lives may take you."

Silence followed this speech. I looked round the hall and saw a sea of terrified faces. A few smug smiles stood out at the Slytherin table, but even there the main expression on people's faces was one of fear. Opposite me, Peter looked the most petrified of all. Sirius's eyes were shut as if in prayer and Lily was staring up at Dumbledore with a kind of fire blazing in her green eyes. James and I met each other's gaze across the table, and in his eyes was a look of grim resignation. This was it, I realized. No more pretence. No more safety. From the moment we stepped out of safety of the castle walls, we really were going to be plunged into the midst of war.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	18. The Silver Lining

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Longest chapter yet. I found this one difficult to write so I hope it's ok. Please let me know what you think!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

The Silver Lining

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><p>I don't think that I will ever get used to the awful feeling that builds up inside me when someone I know gets torn from my life. Once, perhaps, I was naive enough to think that I would. But as the weeks after our departure from Hogwarts wore on, I realised that with every loss, however many were yet to come, there would always be the crushing sensation in my chest, the gaping emptiness gnawing deeper into my soul, the slowly but painfully dawning realisation that the person was gone forever and I would never see their face again.<p>

With every week that passed, someone else we knew lost their life. Several of our friends, housemates and classmates from Hogwarts were murdered that Summer, some of them by Voldemort in person. Helen Bones, the girl I had dated, albeit briefly, at school, had her home attacked by Death Eaters one grim evening in early September. None of her family survived. Olivia Cresswell, who had been in our year in Gryffindor, was victim to a despicable crime when Death Eaters unleashed Fiendfyre on their country house. Her younger brother had returned to Hogwarts by this point and so was safe, but she and her parents were burnt to death within the space of thirty seconds.

Sirius was particularly subdued by this news. I knew that he and Olivia had dated at school, but it wasn't until a conversation with James a couple of weeks after her death that I realised the full impact that it might have had on him.

"I think he may have been in love with her," James said quietly, after I told him that Sirius seemed to have taken the news extremely badly. To save money, I had moved into the flat that he had bought upon running away from home, and having subsequently spent most of the summer in his company, I had noticed that the news of Olivia's death had affected him far more than any other had. He had so far spent every evening since shut up in his room, refusing meals or company, only speaking to me when he absolutely had to. He had obviously been grieving, but even so, James' comment came as a shock, considering that Sirius had spent the last four years (or more) building up a reputation as a serial dater who was unwilling to demonstrate loving commitment towards anyone.

"He never would have admitted it," James added, in response to my astonished look. "Not even to me, properly. Worried about sounding sentimental, probably. Or maybe it was just to protect her from his own family. She was muggleborn, after all, and we all know how the Blacks feel about that! But he definitely cared about her more than he ever let on. And last year he spent most of his time with her when he wasn't with us. That's why he always wanted to take the map with him when he went off in the evening. So we wouldn't see that he was actually always with her and not a string of random girls."

"How do you know that?" I asked, even more surprised at this revelation. James just shrugged.

"I could tell," he said simply, and I didn't pursue the subject. In spite of the friendship that bonded the four of us, James and Sirius had always seemed to understand each other that little bit more than Peter or I ever had, always known just a touch more about each other than we did, and I knew that James might have some advice on how I should handle the current situation.

"What should I do?" I asked him worriedly.

"Leave him," James replied at once. "Sirius deals best with stuff on his own."

I did as instructed, relieved by the reassurance that talking to him about this was not the way to go, and as the weeks wore on, Sirius did seem to come to terms with Olivia's death in his own way, his grief slowly replaced with a steely determination and an almost frightening thirst for revenge. As terrible a price as it was to have to pay, I did finally begin to see the change in Sirius that no number of detentions or reprimands at school had managed to bring about. Seriousness, maturity, and pure dedication to fighting Voldemort and his supporters. Not for sport, nor because fighting was fun, but for the good of trying to eradicate a much greater evil, for the lives of those we loved. It was soon after that Dumbledore approached us about joining the Order of the Phoenix, and the four of us and Lily immediately threw ourselves wholeheartedly into the society of witches and wizards who were devoting their entire lives to fighting Voldemort.

Our friends' murders weren't the only tragic news we had to come to terms with. James' father passed away at the end of November. He had outlived even the Healers' best hopes, and James was thankful to be able to spend the time with him after school, even more grateful that Voldemort had not had a hand in his death, but the grief of losing a parent, grief that I understood all too well, changed him for good. Lily moved in with him shortly after to help him care for his mother, who was now also unwell and declining rapidly now that her husband was no longer around. But James said there was little they could do for her, as she was still magically able and mentally astute. The disease was physically degenerative, and with every passing day she became a little thinner and frailer.

Peter had also moved back to his parents' house, and the physical separation of our group mingled with the ever present threat of loss, pain and death began to take its toll on all of our spirits. I was grateful for Sirius's company, and we still saw the others regularly, of course, at Order meetings, at each other's houses, occasionally meeting up in Diagon Alley, but I missed the ease and convenience of being able to see them day in day out, as I had at school. I had taken so many things for granted, I reflected bitterly, but such was the irony. It was only now, when good and peaceful times were so scarce, that I was able to look back on our years at school and realise how truly wonderful they had been.

**oOo**

The year that followed our departure from Hogwarts was filled with innumerable hardships, several near-death experiences and too many destructive and bloody battles to count, as we dedicated more and more times to helping the Order and the dangerous work it involved. During our most recent mission, Lily and James had almost been killed by Voldemort himself as we took part in an attempt to halt a muggle attack in central London. The incident had thoroughly shaken us up, and our spirits were at an all time low, when we were thrown a lifeline, a reason to be happy in spite of the war and the seemingly hopeless road that we were journeying on, a silver lining that was announced to us in the form of James, who came apparating directly into our living room one cold Autumn evening with a broad grin stretching from ear to ear.

"You could knock you know" Sirius joked pointedly, looking up from his paper, but the look on James's face quelled all mock irritation.

"What are you so happy about?" I asked, warmed by his smile.

"She said yes," James sad simply, sinking into the chair opposite us.

I assumed this could only mean one thing, but it was a while before James could get out the words to confirm it. Eventually, after many impatient sighs from Sirius, he told us the story, setting the scene so that we were presented with the full impact of the moment.

They had been walking in the woods at the back of his parents' house. His mother's rapid decline in health had slowed in the last week, which had lightened their mood considerably. James had watched Lily leaning on a gate, her auburn hair at one with the autumn colours that surrounded them, the eyes shining as they focused on a couple of deer far off in the distant field, her mouth in a wide smile as she laughed at a joke he had just made. And he had felt, in that moment, that he didn't even have a choice, that there was only one way forward. Grasping her shoulders and turning her gently round to face him, he had said very simply, "please marry me," waving his wand as he did so and conjuring a slim, silver ring onto her finger.

She had, after a moment of looking at it in surprise, laughed and said, " I guess I don't really have a choice now do I?"

"Not really!" James had agreed, pulling her towards him, and they had stayed there, locked in each others embrace, for a long time, as the sun turned orange and slipped from the sky.

"Well that could have been awkward," Sirius grinned, once James had finished his picturesque story and I had offered my heartfelt congratulations. "What if she'd said no?"

"She didn't say no," James replied, the wide smile still on his face.

"But... you haven't been together _that_ long..and we only left school last year. Bit soon isn't it?" mused Sirius.

James' smile faltered and he looked briefly annoyed that Sirius was so obviously not sharing his ecstatic mood, so I hastily intervened. Tempers were short all round at the moment, and small, harmless comments could easily be taken badly.

"I think Sirius is just feeling a bit left out, aren't you Padfoot," I teased. "Was someone hoping to marry James instead?"

Sirius had to laugh, and James joined in, but his face was serious once more as he addressed us. He was looking at Sirius in particular.

"I love her," he said quietly, "I always have, you know that. And I always will. So no, its not too soon. Let's be honest, our futures look pretty bleak at the moment. I'm not just being pessimistic," he added, as Sirius opened his mouth to protest, "you know perfectly well it's true: we _could_ have a lifetime ahead of us, but we could also have a year... a month... even a day. Look what could have happened the other day at Trafalgar Square." His eyes closed briefly and I knew he was hit, once more, with the traumatic memory of Lily diving out of the way just milliseconds before Voldemort's jet of green light hit her in the chest. He shook his head furiously to rid it from his mind. "But however long I have left to live, I want to make every second of it count."

"Bit deep mate," Sirius muttered, but the words seemed to have affected him. He made none of his usual comments about soppiness, instead standing up and giving his best friend a congratulatory hug, and after James' had gone back to his new fiancee he sat for a long time in thoughtful silence. Whether he was thinking about Olivia, about Lily and James' engagement, about the possibility or our imminent death, or about something completely different, I never knew, but from that day on was careful no to be so flippant about James' relationship ever again.

**oOo**

Just six weeks later, I stared at myself critically in the mirror in our lounge, turning to admire the back of my new dress robes, deep blue and trimmed with silver, which I had purchased for the occasion. I didn't look too bad, all things considered. In fact, the signs of my condition were less pronounced than ever. My transformations were hardly the exciting adventures we had had at school, but they were much less dangerous and as a result I was sustaining far fewer injuries. I would stay locked in my room in the flat, Sirius, James and Peter would join me in animal form to keep me sane, and aside from a few howls and growls, that thankfully no one else heard due to the silencing charm on the house, I was kept calmer than ever before, and without the permanent danger of my running off into the wizarding community.

So my face was devoid of the usual cuts and bruises, and I was looking much less tired than I had in our final months at school. Being a werewolf left little room for vanity or self admiration, and yet, in my new robes, I couldn't help but wonder how I would have turned out if it weren't for my transformations. I would never have had Sirius's elegant good looks nor James' confident charm, but I probably wouldn't have looked too bad, with a little more confidence, a little less self-consciousness and a lack of scars which had inevitable been accumulated over the past fifteen years. I even starting to feel cheerful about my current appearance, when Sirius walked into the room, smart and pristine in his role as best man, and I immediately felt disheartened again.

"Admiring yourself I see," Sirius chuckled as I flicked my gaze over him ruefully. The war had affected us all in an incredibly short space of time, but it had to be said that whatever impact it might have had on Sirius's state of mind, it had done him no harm where looks were concerned. His arrogant air was unlikely to ever leave him though, I thought, watching him stand proudly in the doorway in his sleek robes, his black hair casually falling over his forehead, his head slightly tilted and a self-confident expression in his grey eyes.

"And now you're admiring me," he said smugly, returning my gaze as he flicked his hair out of his eyes.

"Get over yourself!" I retorted with a laugh. "Nice robes though!"

"Yeah, you too," Sirius replied. "Very nice robes in fact. Are they new?" He hesitated as I nodded. "Remus -"

"I can afford a new set of dress robes, you know," I said sharply, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed, and Sirius flushed and immediately dropped the subject.

He had recently received a share of the Black inheritance from his Uncle, and it looked like that would be added to in the coming months. His brother Regulus had joined the Death Eaters and had apparently killed himself in the process, and Orion Black had died only two weeks after. I was not sure how, and Sirius, if he knew himself, never mentioned them. His mother, I knew, was being slowly driven mad all on her own in the great Black mansion, and Sirius seemed to think it was only a matter of time before she passed away herself. At this point, by Black family tradition and Wizarding law, the house, family heirlooms and the gold that had been left to his mother would also be passed on to him. Not that he particularly wanted any of it, but he did seem to think it was a good excuse to try and pay for everything. As yet, I was stubbornly keeping my pride and refusing most of his offers but, although my father had left me a small amount of gold, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to accept either his or James' offer of financial help.

I pushed the thought out of my mind for the time being and we turned our attention back to the wedding. It was to take place at the Potter's house, as this meant that it was convenient for James' mother, who was no longer able to apparate, perfectly safe, because James' house was protected by a plethora of old enchantments, and suitable to accommodate the few guests who were able to attend: us, a few members of the Order, Dumbledore, and Lily's parents. Lily had sent Petunia three invitations, which had been returned, unopened, but Lily refused to let this upset her.

"There's no point getting upset anymore, it's just not worth it," she had sighed to me, when I asked her privately if she was ok. "There's so much evil and pure hate in all of our lives at the moment. To be honest Petunia's petty resentment is quite low on my list of worries right now." I suspected that Lily was a lot more upset than she was letting on, but I admired her brave face all the same.

She was currently getting ready at James' house where James' mother was undoubtedly fussing over her dress or her hair or her flowers. She adored Lily and, according to James, was desperately sad that she would not be around to spent much more time with her daughter-in-law. Sirius and I, meanwhile, waited patiently as James and Peter finished getting changed in my room. "Who would have though this day would come," Sirius said wryly. "Honestly, think back three years when Lily told him she'd rather eat a bucket of horned slugs than go on a date with him."

"And to be honest you can't really blame her," James' voice came from behind us as he emerged from my bedroom, finally satisfied with his spotless attire. "I was such a prat back then. Weren't we all! Thank god we've grown out of it. Even you, Padfoot!"

I laughed and Sirius gave a mock scowl, but it registered that none of us had changed more than James had in the last two years. Sirius had certainly lost much of his teenage arrogance and brashness, but it did still show though occasionally. James, on the other hand, was entirely unrecognisable in personality from his teenage years, his cockiness replaced with quiet confidence, his once ready and cutting tongue now tactful and kind, and all his boldness and spirit channeled, not into humiliating others, but into fighting the dark side with a furious devotion.

**oOo**

Just half an hour later I sat watching as Lily's father led his daughter down the narrow strip of lightly frosted grass that separated the two rows of seating that were laid out in the Potter's garden. She looked beautiful, her red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun as it fell around her face and over her slender shoulders, her simple white dress rippling slightly in the cold breeze. I watched James give her a smile filled with affection, admiration, understanding and love, and was suddenly thrown into a far distant memory of him, on our first night in the great hall, grinning cheekily at an eleven-year-old Lily who, even then, had shown early signs of the beauty and gentleness which now accompanied her every move. As I watched the two standing there, preparing to bond for life, I couldn't help feel the tiniest twinge of resentment that, seven years on, they were at the start of another wonderful journey, when I myself could only see darkness and doubt on the road ahead.

I was ashamed of my feelings, because I knew the moment was too precious to waste with such terrible thoughts, and thankfully it was a very short-lived burst of jealousy. As the newly-wedded Potters, eager to get back in the warm, made their way back down the aisle to the simple but elegant reception inside, and paused for a second in the doorway with their arms around each other, I was relieved to find that the envy had vanished, replaced with only affection for my two friends. Even Sirius was watching them with a strangely emotional expression in his eyes.

His best man speech, to Lily and James' pleasant surprise, turned out to be eloquent, tasteful and moving. We had decided against telling them that I had sat with him for many an hour and vetoed word after word, sentence after sentence, until it was finally suitable for the occasion.

"_What_ is inappropriate about saying that we once couldn't find Lily and James for five hours because they were going at it in the Quidditch cupboard?" he had huffed crossly, I when I handed him back his first draft with most of it crossed out in thick black ink. "People like a good joke!"

"James' mother will be there," I reminded him. "As will Lily's parents. And McGonagall."

The thought of our former teacher's stern face seemed to bring Sirius to his senses. "Fiiine," he sighed. "What about this?" he scribbled some more words that he hoped would be an improvement.

"Well I've known these two for quite a while now," he had begun. "Right from when James and I were obnoxious little first years at Hogwarts. And I think it's fair to say that if you'd told Lily back in our fifth year that in a few years time she would be marrying James Potter "the toerag", she would have hit you with so many jinxes that a month in the hospital wing wouldn't have been enough to cure you!"

Laughter followed this, and Lily and James both looked at each other sheepishly.

The speech may have taken a while to write, but the words that followed were well worth the effort, I thought, noticing Lily's eyes fill with tears of emotion as she watched Sirius intently.

"In all seriousness though," he was saying, his voice taking on a much more mature tone. "I really have been delighted for you ever since you first got together, because I know that you two were meant for each other... and I know that I may have sometimes seemed a little annoyed at losing my best friend to a girl, but" he laughed as raised his glass, "I don't think there's anyone who I would rather see James spend his life with." His eyes were suddenly filled with a sort of fire as the speech came to and end. "It's days like today that remind us of the good that we continue to fight for, why it _is_ worth the fight, and why there is so much left that is worth holding onto."

He paused as people started clapping, and added something that had not been drafted or practised in our long hours working on the speech. "I love you both," he said, a little gruffly. "You're the best friends anyone could ask for, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart when I wish you a long and happy life together." This was met with more delighted cheers and applause and Sirius sat down.

"Oh shut up," he snapped at me, for I was sitting next to him and trying to hide a smirk, amused but touched by the display of emotion that he normally strove so hard to hide.

**oOo**

The next day, the five of us were enjoying a more informal and quieter celebration in our flat. James was talking about what a lovely ceremony it had been, and how glad he was that everyone they cared about had been there. "Everyone who's still alive anyway," he said, in a would-be casual tone, although I saw the sadness flash across his face.

"Petunia wasn't," Lily reminded him, although she certainly did not look too unhappy about this.

"I've told you before, you're better off without her," James said at once, and as Lily smiled very grudgingly he added hastily, "at least for the moment, until she comes round and realises what a wonderful sister she has."

Lily rolled her eyes, but deigned to be mollified by his exaggerated flattery. "Still, it's a shame," she sighed, "especially after what mum let slip earlier. They'll be born about the same time."

"What are you on about?" Sirius interrupted. The happy couple seemed to have forgotten that there were other people in the room for a few minutes, and they both turned to us looking mildly surprised at Sirius's interjection.

Lily hesitated. "Ok, we weren't going to tell anyone yet but I don't want to keep it secret anymore. It's too exciting." I suddenly thought back to her earlier refusal of a glass of firewhiskey and wondered if perhaps it wasn't due her becoming "boring and sensible now she was a wife", which had been Sirius's disgruntled take on the matter. It was her radiant expression that confirmed my suspicions more than anything, and as she looked around at us, her green eyes sparkling, I suddenly knew precisely what she was about to say.

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><p>Please Review x<p> 


	19. The Lull Before The Storm

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

The Lull Before the Storm

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><p>Can I hold him?" I asked.<p>

Just twenty-four hours after James had sent word that Lily had gone into labor, Sirius, Peter and myself were gathered together in the sitting room of their house in Godric's Hollow, and their tiny newborn son was already being passed from friend to friend.

When Sirius reluctantly consented to pass him to me, Harry James Potter stirred, and as two eyes, so reminiscent even at this early stage of his mothers', stared up at me from the bundle of blankets, I felt a wordless feeling of wonder.

"Now," James was saying seriously. "Sirius may be his official godfather, but I'm expecting you two," he pointed to me and Peter, "to be the ones to set a good example."

As half jokingly promised back in our seventh year, Lily and James had named Sirius godfather to their firstborn son, James assuring me that I could have that same honour when they had a second child. As it was, we were all having a great deal of fun winding Sirius up by telling him that he was bound to lead Harry astray. I had a feeling that Lily and James were doing it in a deliberate attempt to goad Sirius into proving them wrong. At any rate, that was the effect they seemed to be having on him.

"Hey! I can set a good example!" Sirius protested indignantly. Lily simply laughed and said, "I'm reserving judgement on that, Sirius, if you don't mind," before turning to me and saying, "you'd better make sure you're always there as a back up, Remus!"

"I'll make sure he behaves himself!" I assured her.

"_I_ can make sure he behaves himself!" Sirius repeated, now looking even more put out.

"I was talking about you, not Harry!" I retorted, and we all laughed, but Sirius, to his credit, _did_ make a surprising effort to set a good example to his godson during the first year of his life. It became instantly clear to us that he adored Harry, but the most surprising thing about it was that he had absolutely no problem showing it. Sirius had never been one for demonstrativeness or over the top sentimentality. In fact, his emotional words at Lily and James' wedding had been quite a first, so to see him showering his new godson with unlimited love and affection amused us greatly.

"Hmm, at this rate you'll have spoilt him rotten before he's even a year old!" Lily tried to sound disapproving, but she could not hide the delight that spread over her face at the sight of Sirius sitting next to Harry one evening, making the mobile above his cot glow different colours, insisting that it would help him sleep despite Lily's protests that Harry now went to sleep perfectly well without assistance.

"That's what godfathers are for!" Sirius said determinedly. "And in a few years time I'll be the fun relative he turns to when he's fed up with you two being strict and boring!"

We all laughed at the time, but I often think back to those words with a deep feeling of sadness, for that was the one of the last jokes I ever heard Sirius make to Lily and James. Not long after, everything took a turn for the worst, and a time for good-natured teasing and laughing about Harry's future with his parents never came around again.

**oOo**

As Winter passed into Spring, there was a slight shift in the dynamic of the war. Voldemort suddenly became highly elusive, and several weeks would pass at a time without any formal sightings of him. The same could not be said of his hundreds of Death Eaters and followers, so fear and panic still reigned strong, but some claimed that Voldemort himself was declining in power and loosening his deathly hold on the Wizarding world. Dumbledore, however, was certain that this was not the case, and that whatever the reason for his absence may be, we were merely experiencing a lull before another, even more destructive, storm.

At the start of July, Dumbledore's prediction proved true, and a bombshell was dropped on our lives. I appeared in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix to find James coming out of the main meeting room with Professor Dumbledore, both of them looking extremely worried.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking in their grave faces.

"Voldemort is after me and Lily." James said quietly. "Deliberately tracking us down, as opposed to just hoping we die at some point with the rest of the opposition." He looked so grim that any questions I had died on my lips. I didn't really want to know the details. Fear was already pulsing through every inch of my body. If Voldemort wanted something or someone, then he generally succeeded.

"I think we're going to have to go into hiding," James went on quietly. "Dumbledore's suggested a Fidelius Charm, with a secret keeper."

"A role which I am more than willing to take on myself," Dumbledore offered at once, but James shook his head. "Like I said, I really appreciate it, but I'll ask Sirius," he said, "he'll want to do something to help." Even in my shocked anguish I felt a small sense of relief. Where his best friends' safety was concerned, I knew that Sirius could be trusted completely, and James was right. He would be driven mad by the thought of Lily and James in hiding, on their own, with nothing he could do about it. At least if he were secret keeper he would feel involved. Dumbledore, however, was still looking worried.

"It is also possible to be your own secret keeper, James" he persisted, "and while that has the potential to lead to complications, it may still be your safest option, and it would not involve you putting your trust in an outside party." I couldn't help feeling bemused. Dumbledore surely knew that in spite of Sirius's recklessness, he loved James, Lily and his baby godson like family. Why was he so reserved at the idea of trusting him with their livelihood?

"I have no problem putting my trust in an outside party," James replied at once, his face set and proud. As I said to his son many years later, James regarded it as the height of dishonour to mistrust his friends. I'm ashamed to say that I myself grew a little more cynical about trust over the years that followed, but at the time I just looked at James and admired his pride, relishing the knowledge that I was another one of those friends he trusted so much.

Dumbledore continued to look worried, and a week later I found out why as I overheard snatches of a conversation with Professor McGonagall after an Order meeting. Their voices were muffled, but I paused as I caught something about a secret keeper, and a spy. Although I knew I shouldn't be eavesdropping, I stood rooted to the spot, hungry for more information.

"And you offered to be secret keeper yourself?" I heard Mcgonagall ask, as their voices became clearer. "I did," Dumbledore sighed heavily. "But James trusts his friend absolutely. So much so that he has doubtless told Sirius everything that I have told him, which also makes me nervous. If he is indeed a spy, then he will redouble his efforts to keep that concealed now he knows I am suspicious."

"They are so close, though," McGonagall said. "They always have been. And in spite of his parents' prejudices, there is no real bad in Sirius, is there?"

"I do not know." Dumbledore sounded wearier than I had ever heard him. "But in any case that should not come into it. The notoriety of the Black family name is no reason to suspect that Sirius himself has turned to the dark side, just as Remus's lycanthropy is no reason to suspect him. Indeed, I do not wish to doubt any of them, but _someone_ has been passing information on Lily and James to Voldemort, and I have advised James that to use any of his close friends as secret keeper would be extremely unwise."

"But how do you -"

"Severus has informed me," Dumbledore said curtly. "He does not know precisely who, and naturally his detest for their entire group is blackening his ability to rationalise and look at the evidence objectively, but there can be no mistake. Voldemort has a spy close to the Potters and he has done for some time now."

I felt my forehead knot, so great was my confusion. We had heard rumours that Snape had left the Death Eaters and approached Dumbledore, but I had had no idea that he may be spying on Voldemort personally. Why had Dumbledore instantly assumed he could be trusted? And even if his intentions _were_ honourable, and this information true, how did he know that the spy was one of us?

"But that could be anyone who knows Lily and James," McGonagall protested, echoing my thoughts. "They are hugely popular, after all, Albus. Surely it is very unlikely to be one of their best friends! Why, when they were at school they must have been the closest knit group of students I have known in all my years of teaching."

"People change, in times like these, Minerva." Dumbledore replied flatly. "And Lily and James have kept themselves to themselves recently, for Harry's safety. It is only their three best friends who have been in any way involved in their personal life, and Severus assures me that the information that Voldemort has recently obtained on them could not have come from anyone else."

"I am assuming that James does not know how you acquired this information?" McGonagall asked dryly.

"I deemed it unwise to tell him," Dumbledore conceded. "He would immediately assume that Severus is trying to cause trouble between his friends."

Even in my shocked disbelief, I felt my mouth twist into a grim smile. That much was certainly true. James had never quite forgiven, and probably would never forget the seven years of solid hatred that had been ever-tangible between himself and Snape, and would certainly not have been prepared to take advice from him.

"But you yourself are convinced that Snape is acting for James and Lily's own good?" Mcgonagall questioned, sounding a little weak with disbelief now. "You are prepared to take the word of a man who shown nothing but detest for Potter and his friends since he met them? A man who, as far as I can see, supported Voldemort's actions from the moment he-"

"I am," Dumbledore said calmly, as if that were the end of the matter.

I heard them approaching and shrank back against the door as they passed into the hallway, their conversation becoming fainter until I could no longer hear McGonagall's renewed protests about Snape. None of it made sense. Dumbledore trusted Snape, over Sirius, to watch out for James and Lily's well-being? It was completely absurd. Wise he might be, but Dumbledore must, on this occasion, have got his facts wrong.

Nevertheless, I did not tell anyone of the conversation that I had overheard. It had not been for me to hear and it was therefore not my place to do what Dumbledore's judgement had prevented him from doing, and inform James that it was Snape who had planted the seeds of doubt in the old wizard's mind. But I wouldn't believe it, I decided. If James trusted his friends then that was good enough for me, and I convinced myself that the notions of a spy within our group were ridiculous. Snape was trying to cause trouble as usual, and Dumbledore might believe him, but that wasn't going to make any difference to us.

**oOo**

I was wrong. Those next few months changed everything. I still did everything I could to help the Order. I performed my other daily tasks with mundane regularity. But I barely saw my friends. I knew that Lily and James were still in Godric's hollow, where I had been a regular visitor before the unwelcome news, but the Fideleus Charm now meant that I was unable to visit them or know exactly where they were located.

James had told me as much. "We can't really risk it Remus," he said, the night before they were to go into hiding. "If the secret keeper dies – or gets killed," he turned a little paler as he said it, "then everyone in the know becomes secret keeper in turn, and we cant risk anyone else knowing where we're going to be, for your safety as much as ours."

I thought back to the conversation I had overheard in the Order headquarters. Did James and Lily think _I_ was a spy? James' explanation was simple enough, but doubts had crept into my mind. Nevertheless, not wanting to taint the moment with these unpleasant thoughts, I fixed a smile on my face. "I guess this is goodbye for a while then!" I said.

"We will try and get out and about a little," Lily said, "but it's pretty risky. We wont be at Order meetings any more, that's for certain." I smiled sadly and embraced her warmly, and as I pulled away I saw tears threatening to spill out of her startling green eyes. James clasped my hand tightly, pulled me into a brief hug, then stretched out his hand to Lily and the two of them disapparated together.

I never saw their faces again.

I barely saw Sirius either. Just a week after the Charm had been performed, I asked him to send Harry a birthday present and card from me. He obliged, but did not attempt to make any arrangements for further meet-ups, having moved out of the flat and gone into hiding himself. He had insisted on continuing to pay any bills even though he no longer lived there, assuring me that when things had settled down he would move back in, but I still felt more alone than I had in almost ten years, and I couldn't quite shake the feeling that he had lost his trust in me. The thought, at the time, troubled me greatly, and yet when I learnt many years later that Sirius had indeed cut me out a little, I could not even find it in myself to resent him or feel hurt. Sirius, with only his best friends' interests at heart, was careful not to let even the slightest thing slip on the rare occasions we did see each other, and if I had been a spy attempting to pass information to Voldemort I would have found it very difficult.

Lily wrote a kind letter to thank me for Harry's gift and her words gave me hope that her and James' trust in me, at least, remained pure and intact.

_We both really miss you Remus, _she wrote_. I'd give anything to be able to see you again, but it's too risky at the moment. Especially with what happened to the Mckinnon family last week. They don't live very far away. James isn't prepared to leave the house, and I'm certainly not going to discourage him from doing the sensible thing for once! But we do think of you, and I hope with all my heart that this nightmare will soon be over and we can all get on with our lives._

Those were the last words I ever received from her, for if she wrote again, via Sirius, they never had the chance to be passed on to me. I did not see Sirius at all between receiving that letter and the fateful night of Halloween, the night that truly did mark the start of everything, both terrible and wonderful, that was yet to come.

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><p>Writing this chapter made me sad. I hope people liked it anyway! Please review!<p> 


	20. A Deadly Dawn

**A/n **Thanks so much for all the reviews! They make me happy:) And the reason for the frequent updates is that a lot of the story is already written, so the chapters just needs a bit of editing etc.

Anyway, thanks again and enjoy reading :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen<strong>

A Deadly Dawn

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><p>Halloween came around, and I had arranged to meet Peter in Diagon Alley. He was another person I had hardly seen since Lily and James had gone into hiding, but he had replied to my latest owl and said he would be able to meet up for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, so we had arranged to see each other and catch up that night. The pub was very quiet, unsurprisingly, as very few people were venturing out of their homes at the moment, but I couldn't help feeling relieved and refreshed to be out of my flat for once, and I was looking forward to seeing my old friend. I was even hoping that he may have a little more news on Lily and James, reasoning that Sirius might have been prepared to tell him more than he'd told me. I didn't think, at the time, that there was anyway Peter could be a spy, and I assumed Sirius would be of the same opinion.<p>

As seven o'clock passed and Peter did not arrive I settled down in a corner with a drink and picked up a paper. Peter's (admittedly few) skills had certainly never lain in time keeping, and I knew it might be a while before he turned up.

But two hours later as I heard the giant clock chime nine times, I felt a distinct rush of unease. Surely Peter would have sent word if he was going to be this late. Could anything have happened to him? The hours passed and the pub emptied of its few customers until it was just me and Tom and still Peter didn't materialise. I grew more and more anxious as I thought of meek, feeble little Peter and what could possibly have happened to him to prevent him from turning up and not sending word.

"Everything alright, Remus?" Tom asked gruffly, as I made my way up to the bar to take back my glass. I liked Tom, not least because he was completely unprejudiced. Somehow, the secret that I had managed to keep from hundreds of students at school was now pretty common knowledge, particularly among the business owners in Diagon Alley, who loved a bit of gossip, and in most places it was made very clear to me that I was not welcome. Part of me couldn't even blame them, for I knew that most of the werewolves were indeed on Voldemort's side, but I still felt a sick, sinking feeling in my chest whenever I had to go and buy something. Most of the shop owners refused to speak to me, avoided eye contact at all costs, gingerly took the money I handed over as if one touch would poison them and, I'm sure, watched in relief when I made as hasty an exit as possible.

Tom, however, had not even batted an eyelid when he had found out. He had probably had far worse in his pub, after all, but I was always grateful for the kind words and ready smile that most people refused to bestow on me, and so I took a seat at the bar and confessed my worries while he cleared up. He looked distinctly troubled.

"Ay, it is easy to assume the worst in times like this," he said. "But it's not always the case. Maybe he forgot? Never was a great one for remembering things was he?"

"Well... no," I admitted with a smile of fond remembrance as I recalled Peter stumbling down to breakfast without his robes, sitting down in class and realising that all his books were upstairs, and even once leaving his own wand in the library, where thankfully it had been picked up by a kindly Ravenclaw prefect and not one of our group's many Slytherin rivals.

"Then let's hope that he forgot all about your meeting and is snoring peacefully in his bedroom!" Tom gave me a small smile and faint as this hope was, I couldn't help but feel heartened at his words, as the alternative was so grim. "You can crash here for the night," Tom added kindly. "No charge! It's nice to have someone to talk to for a change!"

"Thanks," I murmured, preferring to stay in the pub than return to my own lonely flat, and half an hour later I made my way up to a room, but I did not sleep for several hours, tossing and turning and worrying about my mousy little friend.

**oOo**

It was just starting to get light when I finally fell into a fitful sleep and I did not resurface until about eleven o'clock, when I was jolted awake by a great commotion coming from downstairs. Despite feeling like I had hardly slept, I dragged myself out of bed and into some clothes and stumbled down the stairs to find out what was going on.

An old, bearded wizard was dancing around in excitement and the pub was fuller than it had been for months. "He's gone, he's gone," he shouted. "You-Know-Who's finally been brought down! My sister works for the Daily Prophet and they're working on the stories as we speak!"

I hardly dared to breath or hope. This had happened before, of course, especially in recent months: rumours that Voldemort had been killed, destroyed or had just mysteriously vanished. They were always proved to be false. But hope is an infectious emotion, one that I could not help but latch onto, and I hovered on the edge of the group of wizards, eager for more confirmation.

"What happened?" Tom was saying.

"They're saying it was Harry Potter! You know, Lily and James Potter's little boy-"

I felt a hammer blow to my chest, and missed the rest of what was said, knowing instinctively that what I was about to hear was not going to be good news, however happy the old wizard might look.

Crowds were gathering now and in between the commotion I managed to piece together a certain number of horrifying facts, the worst of which, from my point of view at least, there seemed to be no doubt at all. Lily and James were dead. Voldemort had turned up at their house the night before and they had both been killed instantly. Harry, for reasons that no one knew, had survived and Voldemort had not been seen or heard of since. What seemed to solidify the evidence of his defeat was that, unlike previous occasions, Voldemort was not the only one to have disappeared. Many of the dark creatures he had had at his command had already retreated. The inferi corpses were no longer at large. Those who had been under the imperious curse were back to normal. Even Death Eater attacks had almost completely ceased in the past twelve hours.

The walls seemed to close in on me, blocking out any rational thought, and the voices, laughs and shouts seemed to be coming from a very long way off as I sank onto a bench. I was shaking from head to foot, unable to share even the slightest amount of joy and elation that was now sweeping through the Leaky Cauldron like Fiendfyre. All I could think about were my friends. My brave, kindhearted, _trusting_ friends. All their precaution, protective enchantments and isolation had proved, in the long run, ineffective. Dumbledore, and worse, _Snape_, had been right all along. Sirius _had_ been a traitor, the worst possible kind because he had taken advantage of pure, loving trust and used it as a deadly weapon.

Many wizards and witches around me were crying, whether with happiness at Voldemort's defeat or sorrow at the loss of the Potters I had no idea, but I was shocked well beyond the point of tears.

"That's not all," an old wizard was saying. "You know that Sirius Black, been in the paper a few times with those Order of the Phoenix people?"

I stiffened. Did people know, that it was Sirius who had betrayed them? Had that secret leaked as well? I watched as the old wizard paused for dramatic effect, feeling suddenly sick with dread at what he was about to say.

"Murdered a load of muggles this morning, he did, and an old school friend of his too."

"What?" The word left my mouth involuntarily and as a few people looked at me in surprise I realised I had shouted extremely loudly. But the wizard, clearly enjoying being the centre of attention, pressed on unperturbed.

"Blew up a whole street and killed a dozen muggles! Obviously trying to avenge You Know Who! And then another one of Dumbledore's lot, can't remember his name, Percy or something-"

"Peter," I said mechanically, my voice now barely a whisper, my throat constricted, suddenly knowing that I had been right to worry about him not turning up the night before. But even my worst, wildest imaginings could not have pictured a scene like this.

"That's it! Peter Pettifer! Well he tried to stand up to him and Black killed him too! And they were friends at school, they were!"

Many wizards were looking on greedily, hungry for information, for more gossip, but an unbearable wave of nausea had come over me and I ran upstairs and slammed the door of the room in which I had spent the night, making it to the bathroom just in time to retch repeatedly into the sink.

Finally, pale and exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed, and how long I lay there I'm not really sure. I just closed my eyes and tried to shut out what I'd just heard, desperately hoping. Praying. Pretending. Telling myself that none of it were true.

But by the evening, my denial could no longer prevail. The papers were full of the story. Lily and James' house, the house where I had been so welcome before they went into hiding, was displayed in a bold picture on the front page of the Daily Prohet, in ruins. The story confirmed what I had learnt that morning. Voldemort was gone, baby Harry Potter had survived the killing curse and two of the best friends I had ever had in my life were dead. Page three confirmed that Sirius Black, another of my best friends, had killed a street full of muggles and was to be sent to Azkaban without trial. The last few lines of the article mentioned my final, weakest little friend, commending his attempt to halt the attack, describing the viciousness of Black's wrath which had left only Peter's finger and noting that he had been posthumously awarded an Order of Merlin for his bravery.

There was no mention of Sirius being the one who had betrayed Lily and James in the first place, so I assumed that must still be secret. Not that that was any comfort to me in the slightest.

**oOo**

"I'm sorry, Remus," Dumbledore said soberly. Wanting nothing more than to get away from the celebrations that seemed to be taking place left, right and centre, I had stumbled into Headquarters that night, relieved to find it deserted. At a complete loss to know what to do, I had just sat their, motionless, staring blankly into the empty fireplace, still too aghast to even shed a tear, only looking up when Dumbledore himself appeared. He did not look surprised to see me there.

"They're really all gone." I had meant it as a question but somehow it came out as a statement, and as Dumbledore bowed his head, my last wisp of hope that this was all just a rumour that had got ridiculously out of hand, vanished. "And it's true about Harry?" I added. Dumebledore nodded again, gravely.

"Can I see him?" I asked, suddenly hopeful as one, minuscule ray of light broke its way through the mountain of rubble that seemed to have cascaded over my life in the past twenty-four hours. Surely that is what James and Lily would have wanted. I was the one of the only people that Harry had left. I could help to look after him, mentor him, tell him about his parents and their past as he grew older, make him aware of their love for him, which had been so strong but which they could no longer give. But Dumbledore was shaking his head.

"He has been removed from the Wizarding world for now," he said. "He is living with Lily's sister, where he was delivered safely just hours ago. I hope you understand Remus, but such fame and acclaim would be far too much for the child. I think it would be better for him if he did not know about any of this for several more years. His aunt and uncle will explain everything in due course."

I stared at him mutely. Harry had been sent to live with Petunia? Petunia, who had hated her lovely sister and everything to do with her "freaky" world. Petunia, who had not even wanted her sister at her own wedding, and had refused to even acknowledge that Lily herself was getting married. Petunia, who had never shown the slightest bit of interest in Harry, despite the fact that Lily, I knew, had expressed a desire to meet her own nephew, and had sent him Christmas and Birthday presents.

How could that possibly be the best thing for Harry? Surely there was another option. James' mother had died the year before, and had sadly never had the opportunity to meet her grandson. "But what about Lily's parents?" I blurted out.

Dumbledore looked sad as he surveyed me. "They both passed away, just a couple of months ago," he said quietly. "A muggle transplant operation, I believe, in which there were serious complications." I felt a jolt as yet another piece of tragic news hit me. How horribly unfair that they should be taken ill at the one time their daughter could not leave the house and perhaps offer them some magical healing treatment, as I knew muggleborn children often did, despite the fact that it wasn't strictly permitted by the ministry. And how cruel, that in just a few short months Harry had gone from having a loving circle of relatives to one resentful aunt, whose attitude to the magical world, I was sure, would not be in any way altered by the news of her sister's demise.

If I had been in any position to suggest that I myself take Harry in, I would have done so. But I had no money, and with Sirius gone, I doubted I would even have a place to live now, let alone one in which I could take care of a child. Then, as ever, there was the small matter that I became a terrible, furious monster every full moon. Faced with the impossibility of the only other alternative I could think of, I had no choice to accept Dumbledore's judgement without question, as I had done before and as I would do many times again. I swallowed any further protests and nodded, but there was another question I wanted to ask.

"Did you suspect me, Professor?" I asked, looking him directly in the eye, "of being a spy, I mean?" For the first time since I had known him, Dumbledore looked uncomfortable, but did not ask how I knew there had been a spy in the first place.

"You will forgive me, I hope," he sighed. "Let me at least say that I suspected you no more or less than I did Sirius and Peter. All I knew was that there was evidence to suggest that one of you was guilty. Sadly, it happened to be the one that James chose to confide in."

"I wish he hadn't put so much faith in Sirius now," I said, then realised how stupidly obvious this sounded, and tried to add something. "It's just... it made me so happy, at the time, to know how much James trusted him. Trusted us all."

Dumbledore looked at me with a grim sort of smile, but there was compassion in his gaze. "Trust that is so strong should not to be undervalued," he said quietly. "I discouraged the idea of Sirius being made secret keeper, certainly, because of what I knew, but Remus, as callous as it may seem for me to say this, given yesterdays horrific turn of events, it is better by far to live in trust and feel able to rely wholly on those we love, than it is to spend our entire lives operating alone, too suspicious and doubtful to let anyone else in."

Leaving me to reflect on these words, my placed a hand on my shoulder and left the room. He was yet another person who I did not see for a very long time.

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><p>Please review! The next chapter is also nearly finished so should post that later today too.<p> 


	21. The Years in Between

Thanks for the reviews! Sorry the last chapter was a bit depressing. Hopefully this one is (slightly) less so.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

The Years in Between

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><p>The years that followed passed as a painful, slow motion blur, the monotony of my daily life broken only by the horrors that my condition brought about each full moon. Every month, I would apparate to my parents' deserted house for my transformations, which were now lonelier and more terrible than ever before. But the house was already in such a state of disrepair that there was little I could do to make it worse, and it was the best place to ensure I didn't endanger anyone else. Its isolated location, on the outskirts of a very quiet little village, with the added protection of muggle repelling charms, was the reason that my parents and I had moved there in the first place.<p>

I went from job to job, at first managing to secure the odd spot of work in the magical world. But, with my regular disappearances and frequent injuries, not to mention the fact that many people now knew about my affliction anyway, it proved almost impossible to keep a job for longer than a few months. With each new position my employers would, sooner or later, dismiss me without further explanation, or else start treating me so coldly and rudely that I resigned of my own accord. After a couple of years of this treatment, I started taking on muggle jobs instead, which were easier to come by and generally provided me with a more agreeable working environment. I also adopted muggle attire, and began to use muggle currency, finding that at least in a place where people had never heard of Voldemort or Harry Potter, I could eclipse the horrible events of the past few years. At least, in a world where werewolves were only stuff of legends and fairy tales, I was not shunned by everyone who met me.

Was I happy? No. But I was alive, sane and moderately healthy, and given that that was more than could be said for any of my old friends, I felt I had to be grateful for small mercies.

**oOo**

About six years after that fateful Halloween night, I was working in a newsagents in a small town in Southeast England, living in the dingy little studio flat above the shop. It was the worst job I had had so far, and left me almost no money to spare, so my one and only purchase other than essentials was the Daily Prophet, which I ordered once a week in an attempt to keep up with the magical world. Even then, I was becoming increasingly indifferent to its contents, because they only served as a painful reminder that I had almost no association with the magical world any more, and I never read it cover to cover, merely skimming it for mildly interesting headlines.

I was flicking idly through it one Sunday afternoon and, reaching the international section, suddenly paused at a headline and its adjoining photo. _America's Chief Auror To Marry British witch_, read the headline, but it was the picture that had caught my eye, that of a good-looking wizard and a young witch, a witch with dark hair, dark eyes and a kindly smile as both she and her future husband beamed at the camera. A smile that had, several years before, been directed at me as we shared sweets in the grounds of Hogwarts. It was Mary.

I felt my stomach clench. In truth, I had barely thought of her in the last few years. The pain of losing my four best friends in one blow had blotted out all emotion for anyone else, including, as ashamed as I was to admit it, my own parents. But now, as I stared into the smiling, finely-chiseled features of the person she was going to marry, the sort of powerful, handsome man that I knew I could never and would never be, I felt all the feelings from so many years before return, and a burn of jealousy rise up inside my chest.

Reason battled envy as I tried (but failed) to talk myself into a more rational state of mind. After all, very few couples from our seventh year had prolonged their relationship after leaving school. Lily and James had been among the rare few, and Mary and I had certainly not been the great love affair of the century. Even if I had been a normal teenage boy, it was likely we still would have broken up, and she probably would have still moved to America and would still be engaged to someone else. But the thought, in my lonely state of despair, brought me very little comfort. Mary was the only relationship - because it had been a relationship, albeit a fleeting teenage one – that I had ever had. I had pushed her determinedly away, refused to let her in until, in despair, she had quietly accepted defeat and retreated, and I had not been able to help but wonder, just occasionally, what might have happened if I had acted differently.

I felt lower than I'd felt in a long time as I threw the paper aside and, wanting to get some fresh air, made my way to the local supermarket. I was meandering through the aisles, trying to find something for dinner but not even really seeing the tins and jars in front of me, when I heard a persistent whining from two aisles along.

"But muuuuum, I WANT sweets!"

I sighed, thinking how spoilt some children could be. I was already fed up with the kids who often came into the newsagents, badgering their mothers to buy them toys or chocolate or fizzy drinks, knocking things onto the floor and laughing loudly while their parents looked on in oblivious devotion. I didn't know if magical children were any better behaved, having never had the chance to be around them. They probably had the potential to create a lot more havoc, I reasoned, as at least muggle children didn't have unexpected periods of accidental magic, but I doubted they could be much worse than whoever was letting out the high pitched screams from the next aisle.

"But Dudley my darling, you already have the chocolate and cakes and crisps," I heard a simpering voice say sweetly.

"I don't care, I want SWEETS!" the child roared in outrage, but I didn't register the mother's reply, the name Dudley having rung a vague bell in the back of my mind. Almost automatically, I remembered Lily's laughing voice from almost seven years before.

"..._they've called him Dudley. Of all the names to pick.. poor kid doesn't stand a chance._.."

I also vaguely remembered Lily saying that her sister's husband was originally from Sutton, which not too far from where I was living. My heart started pounding as I tried to tell myself that I was being ridiculous. It was unlikely that they still lived in the area, and in any case, as unkind as it seemed for a parent to name their child Dudley, there were undoubtedly plenty of them in the world.

Nevertheless, I found my feet carrying me towards the whining voice, and reaching the end of the confectionery aisle, I perceived a harassed-looking woman with dark hair and a thin face, desperately trying to console a chubby blond boy who was holding four different packets of sweets in each of his fat fists, tears spurting down his round pink cheeks. But as I looked past him, right to the opposite end of the aisle, I saw another child, looking hungrily at the large bars of chocolate without saying a word. A young, skinny boy with a mess of black hair and - I knew although I couldn't actually see them - startling green eyes behind his lopsided glasses.

Knowing at once that my wild suspicions had been correct, fascination kept my feet treading one in front of the other as I moved closer to where the boy was standing, stopping a few feet away and pretending to be absorbed in the large boxes of sweets that were advertised at half price. I thought desperately of something to say. But what could I possibly say? _Hi, I'm Remus, I was friends with your parents. We went to wizarding school together?_ It was hardly the kind of revelation you could make to a six-year-old in the confectionery aisle of a run-down supermarket.

I also remembered Dumbledore's absolute insistence that Harry should not have contact with wizards until he was ready, and considered leaving without saying anything. On the other hand, I was dressed in muggle attire, and I was not planning on telling him about his parents or the wizarding world. I was just interested to talk to the boy who, the last time I'd seen him, had been less than a year old and fast asleep in his mothers' arms. At the very least, I had to hear his voice.

The screams from the other end of the aisle became even shriller, and the boy grimaced, before looking around nervously to see who else was in the vicinity. He noticed me looking back at him, as I hadn't been quick enough to avert my eyes, and gave me a look that was both comical and apologetic.

"He always does that," he said, eyeing me a little nervously. "You get used to it after a while."

I smiled back, amused at his would-be grown up tone of voice but rather at a loss at what to say, and gestured to the sweets. "Are you getting something too?" I asked kindly.

"No," he looked at me, now somewhat incredulously. "I'm not allowed chocolate."

"Oh," I was unsure how to respond, indignant but not altogether surprised to learn this, given what Lily had told me of Petunia. What shocked me more was his resigned expression and matter of fact tone of voice. He had clearly accepted this injustice as a part of life.

"This one's the best though," he went on, with enthusiasm, jabbing his finger at one the luxury bars in front of him. "I stole a bit of Dudley's once."

He seemed perfectly at ease, and evidently had not been warned against speaking to strangers. It registered that as Petunia did not like her nephew enough to buy him a chocolate bar once in a while, she was unlikely to spend her time lecturing him about his personal safety. She probably hoped someone unsavoury character would indeed come and take him off her hands. The thought filled me with a new wave of dislike for her and for about the thousandth time since Lily and James' death I wondered how Dumbledore could have possibly thought this the best option for their beloved son.

Harry was looking up at me curiously. "Are you ok? You look upset?" he questioned bluntly.

I forced a smile back on my face. "No, no, not at all," I said, "but it's a pity you're not allowed any chocolate at all. They seem to have a lot of it in the trolley."

The boy shrugged. "That's all for Dudley," he said. "I kind of hoped I might get some for my birthday, but I think they've forgotten again."

I froze, recalling the date on the Daily Prophet that I'd been reading just half an hour before. It was the 30th July, which meant that the very next day would be Harry's birthday. His seventh birthday. His sixth one since the loss of his parents, and probably the sixth one without any presents, cards or even a kindly word. I choked back another angry feeling from showing on my face, as I considered hexing Petunia there and then in the shop. About a dozen other thoughts crossed my mind, but I realised that there was very little I could do without getting Harry into trouble or risk exposing him to the magic that Dumbledore had not wanted him to experience at this young age, not to mention breaching the statute of secrecy.

Instead, I settled for reaching into my jacket, twitching my wand under the pretence of digging in my pocket, before pulling out a chocolate bar, slightly smaller than than the one on the shelf, but otherwise identical.

"Here," I said with a smile, "it would be a shame not to have chocolate on your birthday."

His face lit up immediately as he stretched out his hand for the chocolate, and I thought ruefully of how wrong the situation was: a small child – none other than the hero of the wizarding world and the downfall of Lord Voldemort - eagerly accepting sweets from a complete stranger, with no loving parent there to watch out for him, no kindly guardian to rush up and give me a scandalised look before whisking Harry away. His smile was enough to quell this unhappy thought, however, and I felt a great wave of fondness for him as he inspected every inch of the wrapper, all my bitterness and resentment over Mary evaporating in an instant.

"Enjoy,"I said quietly, and then, sensing that the tantrum behind me had reached an end, Dudley having persuaded Petunia to fill the trolley with sweets, I made a swift getaway, and if Harry looked up to thank me after hastily stuffing the chocolate bar into his pocket, I never knew. It was a further seven years until we came face to face again, and by then I, clean shaven but with longer, more greying hair and dressed in wizard robes, was probably unrecognisable from the stranger who had presented him with a birthday chocolate bar all those years before. In any case he never showed any sign of having already met me.

I also did not tell him of the encounter, mainly, I think, out of fear that he would resent me for not making more of an effort to check that he was alright. I decided against making further attempts to track him down or finding out where the Dursleys lived, not because I did not want to, quite the contrary, but because I knew I had to put my trust in Dumbledore. If Dumbledore had wanted me to make contact with Harry or watch out for him, he would have said so, and although I returned regularly to the supermarket in the weeks that followed, I never saw Harry or his aunt and cousin there again. A couple of months later I found a slightly better job up in Manchester, and over the years I continued to move further and further north. With every move I retreated further into my shell, cutting out the wizarding world a little bit more with every new muggle job, and I had been settled in the Yorkshire dales for just over a year when, finally, at long last, my life took a turn for the better.

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><p><strong>an**

Ok, I wasn't sure about chapter, it seems a bit contrived, but I did like the idea of Remus meeting Harry as a child so decided to put it in anyway. Please review x


	22. A Turn for the Better

Thanks for the reviews!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

A Turn for the Better

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><p>I returned from work amidst pouring rain and gratefully pushed open the door of my current home. It was not the worst place I had lived, by far. Certainly it could have done with a lick of paint and some new furniture, but there was no damp or mould on the walls, the windows were devoid of cracks, and the kindly farmer off whom I was renting the cottage for a very reasonable price occasionally popped in to bring me some of his produce. My work, in a local textile factory, was undeniably tedious, but it paid the bills and even left me a small amount to spare, so I couldn't really complain. I was lonely, but I had become so accustomed to loneliness that I no longer factored it in as a hindrance to my overall well-being.<p>

Throwing my coat on a peg, I headed upstairs to change out of my wet clothes. I probably should have used some magic to dry off, I thought ruefully, which was what I always thought when I found myself automatically doing things in the muggle way. I was using my magic less and less as time went on, and probably becoming rusty in much of my once well-accomplished spellwork, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to care about anything concerning the magical world any more. What did it matter? I no longer had my family and friends, and any magic I did only reminded me painfully of this fact. I determinedly tried not to think of my past, although I couldn't help thinking about Harry sometimes, wondering how he was getting on, if and when we would meet again.

It was one of those strange coincidences where one's internal thoughts are almost immediately answered, for it was that evening that a most unexpected visitor came to my door. A loud knock woke me up from where I had been dozing in the faded armchair, and looking at the clock on the mantelpiece I felt bemused as I went to open the door. It was rare that I had a visitor at all, let alone at half past ten in the evening. Most of the northern locals kept themselves to themselves, and with typical muggle politeness, wouldn't dream of troubling a neighbour after dark.

Opening the door, my jaw dropped in utter amazement, for standing before me, looking no different than he had thirteen years before, was my former headteacher, his beard as white and long as ever, his blue eyes sparkling, and his flamboyant purple robes cutting a deep contrast with my shabby grey jumper and faded jeans.

"Well, good evening to you Remus!" he said with a beaming smile. "It has taken me a while to find you I must admit. You haven't chosen the best of climates to live in, have you?"

Noticing that he was soaked by the torrential rain, I decided to go along with the surprising turn of events, remembered my manners and stood aside to let him in, before offering him a seat and a cup of tea.

"Yes, tea would be lovely thank you," Dumbledore said, sinking comfortably into the sofa as if turning up at former students' lonely houses for tea was a regular occurrence for him. Which was possible but highly unlikely, I thought bemusedly, as I nevertheless hurried round the kitchen making tea – again in the muggle way – and bringing it out in the chipped cups that had been rented to me along with the cottage.

"Thank you Remus," Dumbledore said appreciatively, accepting the steaming cup of tea and sipping it, before raising his eyes to me questioningly. "How have things been with you?"

Again, his tone was as casual and conversational as if he had just popped in for a catch up. Still thinking that this could hardly be the case, I nevertheless told him as briefly as I could of my current situation while Dumbledore sipped his tea, nodding and asking the normal everyday questions that one would ask an old acquaintance, inquiring about my house, my job, and the local area.

"And yourself, Professor?" I asked at last, hoping to gauge a deeper meaning for his unexpected visit. "How have you been?"

"Quite well, thank you," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, but he did not elaborate and I cast around for something else to say. I could hardly tell my old headteacher and the greatest wizard in the world to "get to the point."

"How are things at Hogwarts?" I hazarded, deciding that my old school was a safe topic of conversation and one which might give me a little information on the wizarding world. It was strange how the mere appearance of a wizard had reminded me that, in spite of my denial, I was greatly missing my former life.

"Ah!" exclaimed Dumbledore enthusiastically. "Interesting you should ask, as it happens." He took a few moments to finish his cup of tea, declined my offer of a refill, and looked at me seriously.

"You are no doubt wondering why I have appeared on your doorstep on this rainy evening and have probably guessed that its reasoning goes beyond the desire to taste your wonderful muggle tea bags – very nice though they are," he added courteously.

I could only nod to this, as Dumbledore had pretty much put into words my exact thoughts, and with his next sentence, Dumbledore did at last get to the point of his visit.

"I have a job offer for you Remus, one that I very much hope you will accept. Once again, the post of Defense Against the Dark arts teacher needs filling for the next academic year. I'm sure you remember that at school you had a fair few teachers in that discipline?"

I nodded with a small smile, remembering the string of different teachers we had had, all of whom for one reason or another had left after a year, leaving rumours that the job was cursed and that someone would eventually die from accepting the post. This wasn't the most encouraging thought, but I listened intently to Dumbledore nevertheless.

"Well the problem continues, I am sorry to say," Dumbledore pressed on. "Our most recent recruit is now in St Mungos after an unfortunate incident with a backfiring memory charm."

"Oh dear," I said, wanting to sound sorry but distinctly confused by the amused gleam in Dumbledore's eye.

"Yes well, accidents will happen, even to Gilderoy Lockhart," he said, his eyes still twinkling, and I raised my eyebrows in astonishment.

"Gilderoy Lockhart? Not the one who was at Hogwarts with us?"

I remembered him well, as he had been one of the few people to really annoy me throughout my years at school. It wasn't only his pompous ranting about werewolves that had got my back up, nor was I the only person to have found him extremely tiresome. He had made himself notorious as soon as he'd arrived at Hogwarts, boasting about his talent, showing off spellwork that wasn't even particularly extraordinary, and arrogantly claiming to be the "greatest wizard of the new age", whatever that was supposed to mean. Most people, like me, thought of him as an idiotic prat, but being quite good looking he had attracted quite a lot of admiration from younger students as the years went on.

"The very same," Dumbledore nodded. "He had a mildly confrontational incident with James, if I remember correctly."

I suppressed a smile at Dumbledore's tactful words, feeling distinctly more cheerful as I recalled Lockhart coming over to our table at breakfast on the Valentines day of our final year, loudly telling Lily not to mess around with "no hopers" like James and that she should be with a real wizard. Our entire group had laughed hysterically, as had the surrounding students until Lockhart had – foolishly - attempted to lean in and give Lily a kiss on the cheek. Whereupon James, in his first and only display of aggressiveness towards another pupil during his time as head boy, had punched him angrily in the face, breaking his nose and knocking out several front teeth.

The affair had caused a lot of scandal among the students, but the teachers, perhaps just as fed up of his attitude as the rest of us, had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to Lockhart's blustering complaints of being abused by the head boy. James had not been punished and Lockhart, after getting his nose and smile fixed by the nurse, had become noticeably more subdued, staying well out of James' way for the rest of our time at school.

"Of course," Dumbledore continued, "as you may be aware, these days he is more widely known for his great stories of all the beasts he claims to have fought and of course his autobiography in which he gives further details of his awe-inspiring life."

There was a definite hint of irony in his voice, from which I understood that Lockhart had neither fought fearsome beasts nor led an awe-inspiring life. However, I had had no idea of his rise to fame, whether deserved or not, and again was hit with the magnitude of how out of touch I had become with the entire magical community.

"I - I didn't know, I'm afraid, Professor," I said, my cheerfulness gone as quickly as it had come. "I haven't really kept up with the wizarding world, you see."

"I do see," Dumbledore replied gravely. "Which is why I am pleased to be able to offer you this job. You will not think me impolite I hope Remus, but muggle factory work can hardly be stimulating for a talented individual such as yourself. And you always had quite a natural flair for Defence Against the Dark Arts, I seem to recall."

I hesitated. I wouldn't so much have described it as natural flair, rather a colossal amount of work and practice that had allowed me to gain Outstandings in both my OWL and my NEWT, but my aptitude for the subject was far from being at the forefront of my objections.

"But, Professor, I'm not qualified to teach," I began.

"Ah," Dumbledore conceded, with a slight nod of his head, "I do acknowledge that. However, there are very few wizards with teaching qualifications these days, and fewer still who would be willing to teach this subject. Therefore, I have set my hopes on finding a candidate with patience, sincerity, knowledge of the subject and one who will fit into our staff team without claiming they could run the entire school single-handedly. In those four areas alone you already outstrip Gilderoy Lockhart quite easily, and I am convinced you will do a wonderful job."

He was speaking as if my accepting the post was a given, I thought, as I mulled these comments over in my mind. On the one hand, I was thrilled to be offered a decent job, and the thought of returning to the magical world gave me more delight that I had previously imagined it would. On the other, there remained the subject of my lycanthropy, which would probably mean that in spite of Dumbledore's words I _wouldn't_ fit in well with the staff at all. Additionally, parents would certainly not want a werewolf teaching their children and it was with this thought that I looked resolutely back at my former headmaster, ready to reject his kind offer. The word werewolf had barely left my mouth when Dumbledore spoke again.

"As for your condition - shall we say - that will not be a problem either. Our talented potions master has already agreed that he will brew the Wolfsbane Potion for you every month. You will be perfectly safe, as will the students, and therefore there is no reason why they or their parents should know that particular little detail."

I had heard of the Wolfsbane potion, as there had been an article about it in one of the Daily Prophets I had read several years before, but I had not held out much hope of ever being able to sample it, knowing that it would be very expensive to obtain and that, even if I was able to get my hands on the ingredients, my lack of potioneering skills meant that I stood no chance of brewing it for myself. The thought of having completely painless transformations did sound very tempting, but another thought had just occurred to me.

"Talented potions master," I repeated slowly, suddenly remembering who had taken Slughorn's place as potions professor at Hogwarts.

"Severus," Dumbledore confirmed, looking at me intently. "I realise that the two of you were never the best of friends, to put it mildly, but I have his word that he will brew the potion for you as required and I am confident that you will both be able to put the past behind you and cooperate."

"He knows about me though, Professor," I said. "He knows I'm a werewolf and he's not exactly going to want to keep quiet about that, is he? I did almost kill him."

"Sirius Black almost killed him," Dumbledore corrected me at once. "And as we have tragically learned since, that was not an unfortunate joke gone to far, but a sign of things to come. Severus does not hold you accountable for that unfortunate mishap. In any case, all the teachers will have to be in the know but you can rest assured that they will be sworn to secrecy where the students are concerned, Severus included."

We sat in silence as I weighed up the alternatives in my mind. As it stood, I was bored out of my mind, desperately lonely and completely out of touch with my former life. I was being given the opportunity to return to the wizarding world, earn a decent salary, end the suffering of my transformations and effectively solve all my problems in one go. So why was I still hesitant? Reluctant as I was to work with Snape, it was not so much the idea of reliving the animosity of our youth that was causing me to balk, rather the thought of returning to a place with such happy, carefree memories. How could I possibly face those halls, corridors and classrooms now? How could I wander again in those grounds, when all those who once wandered them with me had been stripped from my life? And, in spite of my desire to see him and talk to him, how could I watch and teach Harry every day, and not be reminded of the pain of losing those people who had brought him into the world?

"You know, Harry will be entering his third year in September," Dumbledore said, breaking into my thoughts and giving me the disconcerting impression, as he often did, that he had read my mind. The words were spoken as if in afterthought, but I had a distinct feeling that Dumbledore had kept this final, most persuasive argument until last quite deliberately. He had guessed, if not known, that I had thought about my best friends' son a great deal in the past years, known that I still desperately wanted the chance to see him, and to talk to him, and that this would all be made possible by returning to Hogwarts as a teacher.

"How is he?" I asked, buying a little more time to answer his offer, remembering with a great pang of sadness the thin, ragged-looking boy I had seen in the supermarket all those years before and wondering where his life had lead him since.

Dumbledore proceeded to fill me in on Harry's first two year at Hogwarts, his arrival amidst whispers and excitement from other students, his immediate success as a quidditch player, and the more dangerous adventures he and his two friends had been involved in. By the sounds of it, he really was his parents' son.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, bowing his head when I expressed these thoughts. "Something that has, regrettably, been made all the more apparent by their absence." He left a moments silence out of respect and then turned to me expectantly.

"Well Remus, what do you say? Twenty years ago I came to your doorstep and told you that you would be very welcome at Hogwarts. I did not need, then, to persuade you that it was the right thing for you to do." I let out a small laugh as I thought of my former self, the eager little boy sitting shyly in front of Dumbledore, desperately hoping that he would allow me to attend his school.

"I knew that you would fit in. I knew that you would find your place despite your father's reservations. And I was right, was I not?"

Again, this time with a wrenching feeling of nostalgia for my younger days, I nodded my agreement.

"Now I am asking you to return as a teacher. If you would prefer to stay here, which you have every right to do of course, I will not be in the slightest bit offended and I hope you will excuse me for disturbing you tonight. But I do strongly feel, as I did twenty years ago, that your place is at Hogwarts, and I would be delighted to welcome you there once more."

I stared into the bright blue eyes, knowing deep down that in spite of my outward reservations, I would never really have been able to refuse his offer. It was the chance I had been secretly hoping for a over a third of my life now. I smiled back at him.

"I'd be happy to Professor."

The old wizard's face broke into its habitual beam. "Wonderful," he said briskly, standing up. "And now that we have cleared that up and you are now officially my colleague, I can ask you to stop calling me Professor. It has been many years since I was your teacher, after all."

And with that he made for the door and, telling me he would be in touch very soon, shook my hand and strode off into the night.

I stared after him for a while, then sank back into my armchair, replaying the evening's events in my mind.

James had said to me, many years before, when I had finally agreed to our full moon adventures, "_You'd never have kept refusing if you thought we'd actually give up on you. We just had to let you run out of objections._"

Had he been right? Was this what Dumbledore had been doing too, calmly fighting off all my protests until I had no more to give? Had he known, all along, that in spite of my arguments, I was never seriously going to turn down such a potentially rewarding offer? But however it had come about, my final thought as I finally got into bed and drifted off to sleep, was that I was going back. Finally, after years of sadness, resentment and denial, I was going to face my past.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	23. The Student Becomes the Teacher

**Disclaimer**: Obviously, some of the events referred to in the next few chapters are from Prisoner of Azkaban, but I'm trying to fit this story in around them rather than directly repeating anything that happens in canon.

**a/n:** This chapter's pretty long compared to others but there wasn't really a good place to break it up. Enjoy reading and as always thanks for the reviews!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

The Student Becomes the Teacher

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><p><em>James and Sirius were laughing, their twelve-year-old faces lit up. Snape was scowling furiously, drenched to the skin by the bucket of water that had just fallen on his head when he entered the room. Snape pulled out his wand and turned it on James, and without thinking I sprung between them. Snape's retaliation, a jet of piercingly freezing water, hit me in the chest. The cold seeped instantly into my heart, spread through my veins, reached the very marrow of my bones. The water dried but the coldness did not disappear. In fact it was increasing, worryingly familiar now. I knew that feeling, that drenching, miserable iciness that only one creature in this world had the power to create. <em>Dementors.

I woke up with a start, but opening my eyes made very little difference. There were scared voices coming from all corners of the carriage but it was so dark I couldn't see who was speaking. I heard my own voice, rasping from its lack of recent use, but betraying - at least, I hoped - absolutely no hint of fear, as determinedly took control of the situation and made to fend the dementor off. I was well accomplished in dealing with these foul creatures and Dumbledore, when he had asked me and several other professors to journey up on the train as a precaution, had already prepared us for this eventuality, warning that although he was still trying to talk the minister out of it, the current plan was to have the train searched by the Azkaban guards as it crossed the border into Scotland.

What I hadn't been prepared for, however, was what happened next.

There was a muffled gasp from behind me, and as the lights came back on, I whipped round and surveyed the scene before my eyes. There was a petrified-looking plump boy sitting near to where I was standing. A girl with long red hair was huddled in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest and her face in her arms. And a red-haired boy and a brown-haired girl were kneeling on the ground, their faces stricken as they tried to wake the young man who was lying on the floor between them with his eyes closed and his body trembling. A young man, with a thin face and messy, jet black hair.

_James_, was my immediate, ludicrous thought.

"Harry!" The redhead shook him gently.

"Harry, wake up!" The girl sounded almost hysterical as she tapped his pale cheeks, and I tried to pull myself together. Of course it wasn't James. James was dead. It was his orphaned son, now a slim, wiry teenager, who I was witnessing before my eyes, barely conscious and shaking uncontrollably because of the foul creature that had just searched the train. Because of Sirius. _All_ because of Sirius. I couldn't help but feel a fresh wave of disbelieving anger towards my former friend. The fury that I had pushed determinedly out of my mind upon his betrayal but that had returned with full force when I had learned of his escape crashed over me, and I struggled with this feeling as the youngsters in front of me finally managed to revive Harry and fill him in on what had happened. Trying to distract myself, I dug in my robes for a bar of chocolate and started handing it round. It wasn't the first time I had given him chocolate, I thought ruefully, when Harry accepted a large chunk, but he showed no signs of recognizing me as his eyes locked with mine.

Harry had had Lily's eyes from the moment he had been born. I had seen them numerous times before his parents' death and once after, of course. But I don't think anything could have prepared me for seeing them again, in that moment, as I made my return to Hogwarts. Nothing could have warned be of the memories that instantly streamed through my mind at the sight of the two pools of emerald staring at me out of a face that was, in almost all other respects, identical to James'.

I was really going to have to get a grip, I thought furiously, as I made as swift an exit as possible from the carriage and, breathing heavily, leaned against the gently swaying walls of the train. I wasn't going to be able to collapse emotionally at every single reminder of my former life, because I had a feeling there were going to be a lot of them. Shaking my head to try and rid the image of James' laughing face and Lily's caring expression from my mind, I stood up straight and headed up the train towards the driver. I had almost reach the main cab, when a door I had just passed slid open, and a low voice came from behind me. "Lupin."

I turned and saw Snape leaning out into the corridor, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a thin line. He had not said a word to me when we had all arrived at Hogwarts for the start of term meeting a few weeks before, but one glance at his face had been enough to confirm that he was not overly thrilled with Dumbledore's new choice of teacher. As was the coldness in his voice now, as he stepped out into the corridor towards me.

"You dealt with the dementor at your end of the train, I trust?"

"Yes," I hesitated. I highly doubted that Snape would have much sympathy for Harry, or indeed for any Gryffindor student, but it had been an unpleasant experience for all of them and I felt it was my duty to report it.

Snape did not display the remotest signs of interest or concern as I explained briefly what had happened in my carriage. "It might interest you to know that Potter has always been a great one for attention-seeking, Lupin," he said coolly. "And of course, you spent enough time with his father to know where he got that from." I flinched, but, detecting a gleam of savage provocation in his eyes, decided that I would do everything I could not to let his comments affect me. I would remain polite and calm, whatever he said.

"I have not spend enough time with Harry to judge his personality, Severus, so I cannot comment on that," I said mildly. "But I feel that it was an unusually severe reaction and that the nurse should perhaps be informed before our arrival at Hogwarts."

Snape's humourless smile tightened and he stood aside and gestured to a parchment and quill on the middle table in his compartment, and a couple of brown owls sitting in cages, to be used in case of emergency. He watched me write a brief note to be sent to McGonagall without comment, but as I made to leave he stood in front of me, blocking the compartment door.

"I thought it an interesting choice, Lupin, when Dumbledore appointed you, I must admit."

"I have no doubt," I said, still smiling pleasantly, determined not to cause him the satisfaction of provoking a reaction. "I was rather surprised myself, as it happens."

Snape merely looked at me with disdain.

"Yes, a thought that was shared by many of our colleagues, you may be interested to know. No particular experience, a former friendship with a known mass murderer, not to mention a dangerous, perhaps even lethal, affliction."

"I'm sure similar comments could have been said about you, when you first started working at Hogwarts," I replied smoothly. "Only just graduated, with a suspected affiliation to the darkest wizard in the world. And yet here you remain thirteen years later. So I'm sure Dumbledore must know what he's doing."

Snape ground his teeth and I made a hasty getaway, for I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the pretence of being calm if he brought up the subject of James and Sirius again. Nonetheless, I felt an odd sense of failure as I made my way back to Harry and his friends. Snape and I had always hated each other of course, but it had been a deflected sort of hatred, paling in comparison to the furious animosity that he always channeled towards the two strongest members of my group of friends. While I had not certainly not expected to become friends with Snape, I had been vaguely determined to honour the cooperation that Dumbledore had hinted at when he'd offered me the job, and had held out a faint hope that Snape would do the same. So much had happened since our school days, so much terrible loss and hurt and pain, that any resentment I had once held towards him had long since been cancelled out.

I suppose I had also reasoned that as James and Peter were dead and Sirius on the run from dementors, Snape, alive, unconvicted and comfortably employed,may have found it within himself to be civil to the only one of his former enemies who remained. Judging by our most recent meeting, I had been wrong, and I couldn't help but feel uneasy about what was to come, wondering just how low he might stoop to pay me back for what I had, up until then, assumed was a schoolboy grudge lost in the past.

**oOo**

"A kind thought, Severus, attempting to take on some extra essays, " I said coolly, walking into the staff room after my most recent lesson with the third years, where I had been besieged with complaints about the extra work they had been given by Snape. "But I'm sure you have enough work of your own. I would be grateful if you stuck to my planned schedule if you take my classes again," I added, placing my belongings on the table and turning to face him.

Snape scowled at me from across the room while McGonagall, the only other member of staff present, narrowed her eyes suspiciously and looked between us as he spoke. "Your classes are ridiculously behind Lupin. And I had no note of your schedule, so I simply chose the topic I thought would be most appropriate."

I glared at him, my patience now wearing very thin. I had done everything I could not to retaliate to the insults, jibes and provocations that Snape had thrown at me throughout my first couple of months as a teacher. Sirius and James probably would have been disappointed at my restraint, but I knew that all he wanted was for me to lash out and up until then my unwillingness to give him the satisfaction had been stronger than the desire to turn my wand on him or punch him in the face. Only just, admittedly, but it helped that I was deeply grateful for the Wolfsbane potion that he made me, as promised, every full moon. It completely eradicated the sufferings of my transformations and made it easier to let Snape take a few cheap shots in front of the other members of staff when he felt like it. So far, my only responses had been to remain silent or to politely change the subject, but I was angry at this latest, underhand attempt to give me away to the students.

"How astute of you," I continued, struggling keep my voice even because I knew that Mcgonagall was watching intently and I did not wish to make a scene. "And the fact that you thought that to be werewolves was merely coincidental, I'm sure."

"You set the class an essay on werewolves?" Mcgonagall broke in in disbelieving tones. "Well really, Severus, that was completely-"

"They are behind," Snape repeated coldly, not looking at her. "Something that was not helped by your two day absence spent up in your room doing no lesson planning whatsoever. I suggest," he added silkily, his eyes fixed on my own, "that if you do not wish me to repeat my actions, you put a little more focus on bringing your classes up to speed."

I hated him more than ever at that point, standing in front of me smugly saying those empty words, knowing full well that my "absence" would recur month on month and no doubt hoping he would be given the chance to teach my classes again.

"I hardly think that was his preferred way to spend those two days," McGonagall said angrily before I could get a word in, and I felt a rush of gratitude towards her. She had been very supportive of my admission to the Hogwarts staff team, and had been extremely helpful in filling me in on on certain students and giving me advice on my lesson planning, but she was in the well and truly in the minority on that. In fact, it was only those who had taught me themselves when I had been a student; Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector, as well as Hagrid of course, who treated me with much respect at all. Although it was only Snape who was openly provocative, most of my colleagues kept their communication with me to a bare minimum.

"Quite," Snape went on, still talking to me. "But perhaps your interests have been a bit too focused elsewhere? Perhaps you have been a little more preoccupied with, say, helping an old friend into the castle?"

I jerked my head up, incensed. McGonagall made an exclamation of furious disgust but Snape didn't let her speak. There was a savage kind of triumph on his face and I knew that I must, at last, have given him the reaction he had been trying to draw out of me ever since the journey up to Hogwarts. Having finally broken a barrier, I knew that he was not about to stop there.

"Strange, how Black slipped so easily past all the defences put up against him," he whispered. "Odd, that he should penetrate these walls in a way that no other has done before. And you were having a very cosy chat with Potter that day, if I recall. Perhaps you were hoping to hand him to Black personally-"

All rational thought leaving my mind, I found myself striding over and pointing my wand at his chest. "How dare you," I said, shocked at the sound of my own voice which, for the first time in my memory, held a trace of a snarl. "How dare you even suggest that. After everything that happened. After what Sirius did to James, what he did to Lily-"

Something flickered in Snape's black eyes as he, for once, failed to produce an instant retort. Something that, if I hadn't known better, I would have mistaken as regret, even remorse. After all, he and Lily had been friends for a while, and he had certainly not hated her the way he had James or Sirius. But I remembered the words he had shouted at her that fraught summer afternoon in our fifth year. _Filthy little mudblood_.

"You might have hated James," I spat at him, still feeling a white hot blaze of anger unlike anything I'd ever experienced before in my chest. "You might have thought that Lily was scum. But you know perfectly well that I didn't. You know I would never hand Harry over to Sirius Black."

At the mention of Harry and Sirius, Snape's scathing look returned immediately to his face, but any reply was cut short by a gasp from the door. Bathsheda Babbling, the Ancient runes teacher, was standing there looking stricken at the sight of two colleagues standing facing each other, wands raised. She in particular had not done a very good job of hiding her displeasure at my appointment at Hogwarts. She avoided speaking to me whenever she could, and on the rare occasions we were forced to communicate I was sure that I saw an apprehensive, almost disgusted look in her eye, one that was present at that moment as she looked between myself and Snape.

"Nothing to worry about, just a little display of anger," Snape assured her slickly. "Of course, for some of us," he went on, his eyes flicking back to me, "it is merely second nature." Perhaps he was hoping for another outburst, but the appearance of someone else had instantly quelled all my anger, and so he gave a contented smirk, before saying, "your second years were set that essay as well, just so you are aware."

With that, he slipped smoothly out of the room. Professor Babbling, thrusting her books and a pile of scrolls onto the table, gave me a scandalised look and also made a hasty getaway.

I sank down into a chair, my face burning, refusing to look at McGonagall in my embarrassment. I heard her get up and rustle around behind me, and was half expecting her to leave me alone, but to my surprise a few minutes later a mug of tea was placed next to me and she sat back down.

"Thanks," I muttered, finally looking up at her. "Sorry about that."

"Not at all," she said, in a dignified sort of voice. "I think he had a bit of retaliation coming to him. If anything I've been quite impressed at your restraint over the last few months."

"Yes, well, hitting back at Snape was always a job reserved for my friends," I said dryly, suddenly feeling miserable again as I thought of them. I greatly missed their heartfelt, bracing advice and the mere mention of them had just reminded me of the fact that the last time I had been in the castle, they had been there every day to confide in. It had been a very long time since I'd confided in anyone at all, but as McGonagall had sprung so easily to my defence, I couldn't help telling her of my regret that I had just acted in a way that was only what most people seemed to expect of me. I also confessed the worries that Snape's words had brought on, admitting that I couldn't stand the fact that Sirius had been just metres away from Harry a few weeks previously, and that it worried me that students may even as we speak be finding out about my condition.

McGonagall listened intently, her face as stern as ever but her voice was surprisingly kindly as she made an attempt to cheer me up. "Even the best of us lose our temper with each other occasionally," she assured me. "And yes, it _is_ true that Bathsheda is not your most devoted fan, but she is not at all fond of Severus either, if it is any consolation!"

I forced a small smile. "As for the second years," she went on crisply. "I'm fairly certain you have nothing to worry about there. I am in despair of them at the moment! Everything I tell them goes in one ear and out the other. I would be astounded if a single one of them has so much as written the title of their essay."

"Where Sirius Black is concerned, Dumbledore knows perfectly well you are completely trustworthy, and so do I," she finished proudly, and my gratitude towards her increased. I couldn't help smiling properly. If someone had told me when I arrived as a timid little first year in terror and awe of her strictness that she would many years down the line be giving me some warm and comforting advice, I would never have believed it.

**oOo**

Grateful as I was, I felt uncomfortable as I made for my second year class an hour later. McGonagall didn't know the full extent of it. She had no idea that while I may not be helping Sirius into the castle, nor was I doing everything I could to get him caught. I had to be the only person alive who knew that Sirius was an Animagus, but admitting that meant revealing many other secrets that I was too afraid to divulge. The feelings of guilt that I had so easily pushed away back in my fifth year at school returned whenever I thought about Harry. Or Lily. Hadn't she specifically asked me to be there as a backup, should Sirius be led astray? Of course, she had been joking at the time. None of us could have predicted a scenario like this, but that didn't change the fact that she would not be impressed if she knew that I was being too cowardly to protect her only son to the best of my ability. I was so preoccupied with this uncomfortable feeling that I could not even register relief that, as McGonagall had predicted, none of my second year class had given a moments thought to their werewolf essay. Half of them seemed to have forgotten it had been set at all, merely giving me a look of confusion when I told them the essay on Kappas would be their only work for the week.

"Are you feeling better sir?" The dreamy voice had come from the front desk, interrupting my thoughts as I packed up at the end of class.

"Yes thank you Luna," I answered, feeling very slightly better at the sound of her absent-minded voice. I had a soft spot for Luna. She was different, there was no doubt about that, but she intrigued me, sometimes paying such close attention to my classes that I felt like she was memorising every syllable, other times staring dreamily out of the window and not appearing to take in a word. Flitwick, her head of house, had warned me that Luna achieved excellent results, but by using her own methods, and that it was best to "let her get on with it." It had been obvious that he was very fond of his unusual student, and now, looking into her face as she enquired about my health, I couldn't help but feel properly cheerful for the first time since leaving the staff room an hour before.

"Teacher's pet, Loony!" one of her classmates said loudly, barging deliberately past her desk and knocking her large bag onto the floor, before charging out of the classroom so I could not reprimand him. But Luna did not look too upset as I hastily made to help her pick up her things.

"They always call me that," she said conversationally as she put a heavily jeweled charm bracelet, a pair of odd-looking glasses and a bright pink fluffy quill back in her bag. "I think it's just a joke!" I barely heard her, for I had picked up one of the books that had fallen from her bag and started as I took in the title and its author. _Wanderings with Werewolves, _by_ Gilderoy Lockhart._

"That was one of our books last year," she said, noticing what I had picked up. "I brought it just in case we were going to talk about werewolves again."

I flicked through it, feeling a jolt in my stomach as I paused on a chapter entitled _The Madness Within_, and then looked with distaste at the photo on the back cover. Gilderoy Lockhart, still very recognisable from the boy we had known at school, had clearly had been using some smile-enhancing potions, no doubt self-conscious about his teeth, even though the nurse had expertly replaced the three that James had knocked out back in our final year. Luna, who had finished packing up her other belongings and stretched out her hand to take the book, was looking at me curiously.

"That was our teacher last year," she said. "But I like your lessons much better. He didn't really seem to know what he was talking about. And I don't like what he says in that book," she added thoughtfully, as I hastily suppressed a laugh.

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows. "Why not?"

"He says that werewolves are mad and dangerous and should be stamped out," she mused, still in her absent-minded tone of voice. "And that they are a threat to the future of human civilisation."

I watched her silvery eyes, so reminiscent of the full moon, flick over the cover of the book, which held a picture of the ferocious-looking beast that would have been myself only days before had I not taken the Wolfsbane potion, and wondered what was coming next.

"I don't really think it's fair of him to say that, because werewolves are just like other wizards when it isn't a full moon, aren't they?" she went on seriously. "And it's not their fault that they're different." She shrugged, placed the book in her bag and, as she closed the zip with difficulty, said decisively, "Anyway, they must be perfectly normal inside."

I had heard people tell me I was normal time and time again, and yet somehow it was only now, coming from a young girl who had absolutely no idea of the impact her thoughts on werewolves could have had on me, that the words finally seemed to take on a proper meaning. I managed to hold onto them all through the rest of my year of teaching as a sort of talisman, one that shielded me from feeling hurt when prejudiced comments came in my direction, and one the prevented me from ever losing my temper or turning my wand on Snape again. I resumed a mild, almost friendly politeness that seemed to infuriate him even more, until he eventually became tired of my lack of response to his relentless attacks and contented himself to telling Dumbledore, over and over again, that I couldn't be trusted, becoming increasingly annoyed when Dumbedore refused to listen to what he had to say.

As for Luna, I was never able to express the full extent of my gratitude towards her for those few simple words, but I did make very sure that no one called her "Loony" within my earshot ever again.

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><p>I love Luna, so this bit was fun to write. Please review :)<p> 


	24. An Inconceivable Betrayal

**Disclaimer:** First few lines of speech directly from Prisoner of Azkaban.

Thanks for the reviews! There will be a couple more chapters about his year of teaching after this one but I'm not repeating much that we already know from the books, and trying to keep it moving along steadily :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three<strong>

An Inconceivable Betrayal

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><p>"Professor, if you knew my Dad, you must have known Sirius Black as well."<p>

I spun round abruptly, suddenly scared. "What gives you that idea?" I said, my voice much harsher than I had intended due to the surprise at what Harry had just said. Had Snape let something slip to Harry to suggest that I might be in league with him? Was he still attempting to sabotage my relationships with both the staff and the students? I wouldn't have put it past him. But there was no accusation in Harry's tone, merely curiosity.

"Nothing, I mean- I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too."

I felt instantly relieved, and it wasn't until Harry had gone back to his common room and I'd been left alone that I suddenly wondered how on earth he had known that. Perhaps he had seen photos of them together, I thought. Hagrid had written to me a couple of years previously, saying that he was putting together an album for Harry and asking if I had any photos of his parents. But I hadn't had any to give. Any photos of Lily and James had been left in the flat I had once shared with Sirius, and I had only been back once after his betrayal to grab my bare essentials, not wanting to spend any more time than I had to inside a place that reminded me so much of... a murderer. Even in my shocked disbelief at the time there had been no other word for him.

I went back to my office, thinking about the other things I had just discovered from Harry during his patronus lesson. I had been deeply troubled when I had learnt what Harry experienced when he got near the dementors. How horrific, that he had never benefited from Lily's kind words or sensible advice, but had heard the screams she had let out before she died. How cruel, that the only words he had ever heard his father say had been his last. I had never known that James had died first, trying to protect his wife and child. I could perhaps have guessed, knowing my best friend as I did, but I had tried to block all thoughts of their death from my mind, and I would never have dreamed of asking the few people who knew for certain. The truth that Harry had just inadvertently revealed brought back all the emotions I had felt upon finding out about their death: the grief at losing so many people I loved, the shock at the devastating turn of events, the utter disbelief at what Sirius had done.

I had thought of the beautiful words he had spoken at Lily and James' wedding, recalled the look on his face as he held Harry for the first time, and felt furiously miserable when I realised that we had all been fooled, that even then he had been selling them out to Voldemort. Shortly after, however, I had pushed all thoughts of him out of my mind. Dwelling on his actions, analysing why and how and when he had changed his allegiances had been too painful, and I had wanted nothing more than to forget that Sirius Black had ever existed.

That had been far harder to do since his escape, given that updates on his suspected whereabouts appeared in the paper at least every few weeks, and after Harry's mention of my old friend I spent a long time sitting at my desk, completely overcome with memories that I had been determinedly blocking out for half a lifetime. And the more I remembered, the less I understood how Sirius could have possibly done what he did. There was absolutely nothing I could think of, in all the years I had spent with him, day in day out, that could be seen as even a mild warning about what was to come. Nothing that held even the subtlest hint of his ulterior motives, or his impending treachery. In fact, as hard as I racked my brains, all I could recall was Sirius doing everything he possibly could to protect his best friends, time after time after time.

_It was our first ever Order mission. Myself, the nine other official members of Order and three accompanying Aurors were quiet, prowling on the deserted moor where we had been led to believe there was to be group of Death Eaters meeting that night. According to our informant, there should have been half a dozen at that very spot, already preparing their attack on the nearby muggle village. But there was no one to be seen. An eerie silence fell over the group, filling me with sudden dread._

"_We've been tricked," Mad-Eye whispered suddenly. No sooner had the words left his mouth, a black hooded figure appeared out of thin air, and Death Eater after Death Eater materialised next to him. I felt the air turn thick and realised with a further jolt of apprehension that they had cast a charm to ensure that we did not disapparate. I raised my wand in preparation and felt Sirius do the same next to me, but someone suddenly grabbed us both by the back of our cloaks, dragged us several metres and threw us on the ground. I immediately felt the tightness disappear. The anti-apparition charm must have been improperly cast, because it did not stretch far at all._

"_Leave! Go back to headquarters at once!" Mad-Eye ordered. He had shoved Peter back towards us as well, and Peter instantly did as instructed, but Sirius and I were far more reluctant. "James!" Sirius let out an anguished yell as I too, caught sight of our friend in the thick of the group Death Eaters. But he had not been close enough to the edge of the charm to be able to get to safety and he was lost almost instantly in a swirl of black cloaks. I saw a mass of red hair before Lily, standing back to back with Alice Longbottom and already duelling fiercely, also vanished from sight. Frank immediately dived into the melee to help his wife and Sirius and I tried to follow._

"_Retreat," Mad-Eye shouted gruffly at me, catching both myself and Sirius and throwing us back again before we could reach the scrum. "But-" Sirius protested._

"_You're to disapparate now. We're completely outnumbered. You'll be killed."_

"_I don't care-"_

"_Do as I say!" Mad-Eye was furious. "You came with us on the condition that you'd obey my orders!"_

"_I WON'T LEAVE THEM!" Sirius roared._

_But another auror, one I did not recognize, had strode forward. Grasping both mine and Sirius's wrists so tightly it would have cut off blood supply within seconds, he turned on the spot, and we had no choice but to be dragged with him, back to the safety of headquarters._

I sat at my desk, staring at the grindylow that was still in the tank in front of me without really seeing it. I could still recall the anguish in Sirius's voice, the despair as he yelled for his best friend, the fury he had displayed at being dragged back to safety against his will. Retreating had been a necessary tactic, I knew, one that had sometimes been employed when we were vastly outnumbered to prevent the entire Order being taken out in one go. But Sirius had been livid, incensed at being forced to flee while his best friends remained in danger. It had taken three people to restrain him and stop him trying to return to the fight, which is what the auror had done after bringing us back.

_Sirius had finally stopped shouting and struggling, and we were sitting, white-faced, waiting for news. Of the thirteen who had been on the mission, only five of us were now sitting in the entrance hall at headquarters. Several minutes passed, each one feeling at least as long as an hour. Then Benji Fenwick collapsed in through the door._

"_Voldemort," Benji gasped. "He appeared at the fight. I just managed to get to the edge and disapparate."_

_Sirius went even paler and I felt horribly sick._

"_Dumbledore's there though," Benji went on, trying to regain a steady breathing. "He turned up not long after the Death Eaters did. Must have got wind of it." I felt a rush of hope, knowing that Dumbledore was pretty much the only chance there was of all our friends making it out alive if Voldemort was there too. But the minutes stretched on and we heard no word. Peter looked worried, I felt terrified, but the expression on Sirius's face was beyond any feeling that I could even describe._

_Finally, at long last, the door opened, revealing Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Frank and Alice, and finally, looking very shaken, Lily and James. James had a swollen eye and Lily had a large gash on her cheek, but other than that they appeared to be unharmed._

_I gave a cry of relief and Sirius and I stood up. Dumbledore explained the aftermath of the situation. A good half of the Death Eaters had been killed or seriously injured and he had managed to fend Voldemort off, but two of the aurors who had joined our party had also lost their lives._

_He and Mad-Eye disappeared to another room to confer, and Frank and Alice left too, obviously grieving their fallen colleagues, leaving Lily and James standing in the hallway. Sirius walked straight up to James and punched him on the arm._

"_Ouch!" James exclaimed indignantly. "What was that for?" _

"_To remind you that if you get yourself killed by Voldemort I will never forgive you!"_

_Even then, the joking tone was starting to return to his voice, but as he turned to Lily and hugged her tightly, holding her for just a few seconds longer than might be considered normal, I saw the look in his eyes. The tortured look as he imagined what could have happened mixed with the indescribable relief that his closest friends were now safe._

The memory faded once more. Of course, that had been just after leaving school. Sirius had had plenty of time to turn to the dark side in the months that followed. And in any case, the role of a spy would undoubtedly necessitate a bit of double bluffing. But, as the vivid recollections kept coming, all I could think about was how unbelievably committed he had been to playing the part, every single step of the way.

_He was tackling James to the ground to stop him walking directly into a line of thick purple flame, which James had not seen and which blazed a strip of skin out of Sirius's back as it streaked over them. _

_He was diving into the heart of a battle to help Lily, who had just been disarmed, casting a shield charm over her at once so that she had time to dive for her wand._

_He was rushing forward to stand in front of Peter as two Death Eaters advanced, not even noticing that his own shoulder had just been blasted out of its socket as he furiously defended the meek little friend he was going to murder only three months later. _

_He was looking over from his own duel and yelling at me frantically and, just in time, I wheeled round and dodged the jet of green light that Dolohov had sent my way. Another three seconds and it would have hit me square in the back._

Every single one of his actions, which I had since realised must have been expertly put on to conceal his true allegiance, had seemed completely natural, utterly genuine, and there were so many of them, some so subtle that, looking back, I was astounded that he could even have thought to act them out at all.

_He was looking down at me as I lay on a damp stretch of grass, his face betraying a look of deep concern in spite of my insistence that I was fine, as he did his best to cure a gaping wound that our most recent encounter with a Death Eater had left in my leg._

_He was shaking from head to foot as Mad-Eye brought us word of Lily and James' now third encounter with Voldemort, his relief that they were safe changing to fury as Mad-Eye stated, in his usual blunt way, that their luck was bound to run out soon. "Don't ever say that in front of me again," he spat at him. And Mad-Eye didn't._

_He was backing James up in his argument that Lily had no business taking part in Order activity now that she was nearly seven months pregnant, his voice cracking a little as he insisted that both she and her unborn child could too easily be hurt._

_He was sitting bolt upright on the sofa, jerked awake from his doze, his eyes widening with apparent fear as we heard a sickly Harry crying from upstairs in Lily and James' house in Godric's Hollow. _

"_He's fine," James said, coming downstairs a little while later. "His temperature's gone down now. I think he'll be much better tomorrow."_

_Sirius sank back into the sofa, looking hugely relieved._

The memories faded, but the feeling of disbelief did not as I leaned forwards and put my face in my hands. Still, after thirteen years, I could not even begin to comprehend the depth of his betrayal.

"_I thought I knew him_," I had just said to Harry.

Clearly, I hadn't known him at all.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	25. The Smallest Details

Thank you for the reviews, they were, as always, very appreciated :D

This chapter was inspired from the scene in PoA film, the one with Harry and Lupin on the bridge, and I've stolen a couple of lines from it. I like to think a similar scene could have happened in the books.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four<strong>

The Smallest Details

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><p>I felt bad for being so short with Harry when he had mentioned Sirius and James. After all, it was only natural for him to be curious, and he couldn't possibly know how much the mere mention of any of my old friends affected me. Even so, I was relieved that the subject of Sirius did not come up again during our next lesson. In the third, however, after his final successful attempt at keeping the boggart-dementor at bay, he said quietly, "I didn't hear her that time."<p>

I nodded, looking at him with understanding, but could think of nothing to say. His face was set with determination, but unless I was very much mistaken I had detected the tiniest hint of regret in his tone as he'd said it, and wondered if a small part of him had relished hearing Lily's last words echo in his mind. As morbid as it seemed, I could just about understand the fascination behind that sentiment, the desire to hear the voices of the parents he had never known, the voices he could not otherwise remember and never would hear again.

"Professor, were you friends with my Mum as well?" Harry asked suddenly, as I began searching in my bag for yet another bar of chocolate to give him so that Madame Pomfrey didn't come after me and berate me for damaging her students' health. I turned back to face him, initially very surprised at the question, for how could I have been friends with James and _not_ been friends with Lily, when their Hogwarts lives had been so completely intertwined? But then there was no reason why Harry would know how and when they had got together, of course, and I immediately felt guilty for my presumption, hoping that my astonishment had not shown on my face.

"Yes," I said simply. "I knew her well. She was in Gryffindor with myself and James."

Harry merely nodded.

"You didn't know that?" I asked gently, suddenly intrigued as to how much Harry _did_ know about his parents, particularly their time at Hogwarts.

Harry shrugged. "I knew they were both in Gryffindor," he said. "Hagrid told me they were Head Boy and Girl and then Hermione found their names on an old record a while back, so I knew they were in the same year..." he trailed off and a wave of sadness flooded over me. So that was all that remained of their time at Hogwarts. Two inked names among hundreds of others on a faded piece of parchment. No reminder of their deeds, their strengths, their weaknesses, their personal journeys through the school. No memory of the warmth and laughter they had shared with their friends, with each other.

"People often think I know more about them than I actually do," Harry said, and I felt another stab of guilt, because of course that was precisely what I had just done, assumed that the memories that were so ingrained in my own mind were shared by their son. But how could they possibly be, when there was hardly anyone still around who had known them during their school days, and fewer still who would have had contact with Harry himself?

"All I really know is that my Dad played quidditch at Hogwarts too." Harry gave a small laugh but he sounded rueful, and was eyeing me with a slightly hopeful expression in his eyes. Suddenly I knew where this conversation was headed, understood that Harry had realised, after our first conversation about James, that he may have found a link to his parents in me, and was wondering if I could tell him something more.

I was aware that this would be by far the most personal conversation we had ever had, that we were now venturing into uncharted territory, our relationship bordering for the first time on something more than that of student and teacher, and I hesitated. Was it wise to breach that particular boundary at this point in time? Perhaps not, but then hadn't that been one of my reasons for wanting to get to know Harry in the first place, so I could tell him about the parents he had loved so briefly and then lost forever? And he looked so hopeful, so hungry for information. How could I refuse him what so few others had the ability to give him?

"Yes indeed, he was a chaser," I replied with a smile. "An extremely talented one at that. We won the cup five out of the six seasons he played for Gryffindor. And James would tell you it certainly wasn't his fault that we didn't win all six! He was fairly confident in his quidditch ability! Well, in his ability for pretty much everything actually," I added, smiling warmly as the memory of his assertiveness came into my mind. "Including his talent for trouble! And I understand that is a trait you have inherited too."

Harry grinned back, looking a lot more cheerful than he had at the end of any of our patronus lessons so far.

"And my Mum?" I couldn't help but notice the eagerness behind his would-be casual tone.

"Well, your mum was generally the well-behaved one," I said slowly, thinking fondly of Lily as well. "Extremely conscientious. Kind. Sensible. Studious. Not unlike Hermione as it happens, although she landed herself in the odd detention as well over the years. Generally when she got caught sneaking down to the kitchens to steal food. She had a severe weakness for treacle tart!"

A strange expression flitted over Harry's face, but he didn't say anything, and I pressed on.

"She wasn't a bad flyer herself actually. James used to pester her about training more and trying out for the Gryffindor team, but she preferred to stick to the Charms club."

"Mr. Ollivander told me her wand was good for Charms," Harry broke in abruptly. "When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley."

"Yes, well Charms was definitely her best subject," I acknowledged. "Closely followed by Potions, believe it or not!" I grinned as Harry looked vaguely incredulous. "Well, I was never much of a potion brewer either, like I told you before," I chuckled. "But your Mother was, and she was a very helpful companion to have in Potions class, I can assure you. She excelled at most subjects actually, although she struggled with Transfiguration and she absolutely detested Astronomy. Said she could never see the point of studying something that was millions of miles away when there was so much happening on Earth."

I swallowed, suddenly losing myself in the memories. I remembered that being one of the first things Lily had ever said to me, in her matter-of-fact way, as we sat side by side preparing our telescopes for our first midnight lesson up in the Astronomy tower. "Stupid, pointless subject," had been her frequent refrain, and she had not been in the least bit bothered when she had received a Dreadful in her Astronomy OWL, despite Sirius and James' fairly frequently taunts about it. They themselves had not received less than Exceeds Expectations in any of their exams.

"What else?" Harry persisted quietly. I paused. I knew that this was a rare chance to talk to him about Lily and James, one that might not present itself again for a long while, but suddenly, ridiculously, I had absolutely no idea what else to say. After all that time spent with them, and all that time thinking about what I could tell Harry should the opportunity ever arise, now all that was coming to mind were the most stupid and unimportant of facts about them. Nothing meaningful or significant, aside from their kindness and acceptance regarding my condition, which I obviously couldn't reveal to Harry, and the many ups and downs of their own relationship, which I felt were both a little too personal and too complicated to go into. So I continued with the random pieces of information that kept popping into my head, hoping that he wouldn't begrudge me for their triviality.

"She had an owl called Aurora, named after a character from her favourite film as a child I think. She also had a strange fascination for frogs, kept a load of them in a tank in her dormitory. James let them all escape once and she was not happy!"

Harry laughed, and I felt heartened, hoping that maybe the information wasn't so useless after all.

"It took her a while to forgive him for that, and I think he learned his lesson! Your mother had a bit of a temper." I smiled. "It didn't often show but you did not want to be around when it did. Our divination teacher used to tell her it was the red hair."

Harry's eyes - Lily's eyes - never left my face as I blurted out several more disjointed facts about her. About James. About them both. They weren't the deep, meaningful words that I had always imagined I would one day say to Harry. I wasn't going into great lengths about his parents' courage, their strength of character, their love for their only son, but as I persevered, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the information I _was_ relaying was even more valuable to him, because it was proof of the intricacies of their personalities, their likes and dislikes, their habits and idiosyncrasies, all the smallest details which had been almost completely eclipsed by their famously tragic and heroic death in Godric's Hollow.

"She was an early riser, always getting up to go to the library and read before breakfast. You'd often find her asleep on the sofa in the common room by ten o'clock in the evening though. James was the opposite, could sleep all day and spend all night causing trouble. That particular difference came in useful when you were a baby!"

I gave him another smile, which he returned hesitantly. There was a wistful look in his eyes, but he was also looking curious, and I suddenly wished I hadn't brought up the subject of him as a baby, reluctant to reveal how much time I myself had spent with him during that first year of his life, because I knew that may lead to awkward questions about their home, where they had lived, how Voldemort had managed to find them, and I certainly didn't want to have to mention Sirius myself. I hastily took the conversation in a different direction.

"Now, of course, you look extraordinarily like James, but you've inherited something else from Lily."

"Her eyes?" Harry suggested dutifully, and I didn't miss the resigned tone of voice as he said it. Evidently he had heard that one a few too many times.

"Well, yes," I conceded with a laugh. "But that's not what I was going to say."

"Oh," Harry said, seeming both surprised and pleased. "Good. I get a bit fed up with hearing that to be honest."

"I expect you do, although you should know that people only say it out of the fondest of memories and greatest respect for your Mother," I said sincerely. "But you have inherited more than her eyes, Harry. You have something of her way of seeing the world through them, a similar way of perceiving and understanding." Harry looked a little confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked at once. I hesitated yet again. There wasn't really a good way to put into words how much of Lily I saw in Harry, and how in my opinion, aside from his quidditch talent and unquestionable disregard for the rules, he wasn't really like James at all. Certainly not how James had been in his third year at school, at any rate. I thought back to my time spent with my friend, recalled his brash, sometimes unkind behaviour towards other students, his confident assertiveness that he could do anything and everything, the arrogance that had expertly concealed his good heart and caring personality for many a year.

No, much as I had loved my oldest and best friend, Harry was very different to him. But there was no easy way to clarify why, not without putting James in unfavourable light. No good way to explain to Harry that James, adored and spoiled every day of his childhood by his doting parents, had considered himself one of the most important people in the school, and had wasted no opportunity to try and prove it, whereas it was clear that Harry just wanted to get away from the attention that he received wherever he went. That James' worst fear at thirteen years old had been no more complex than losing the Quidditch cup to Slytherin, and that even then he would have claimed he wasn't scared of anything at all. That if Colin Creevey had followed _James_ down the corridor, chattering in his ear without so much as taking a breath, as I had seen him doing with Harry only the week before, James would have probably hexed him in irritation, rather than listen patiently until he could tactfully shake him off. I knew instinctively, even though I had spent considerably less time with Harry than I had with either of his parents, that if he were to witness some of the more confrontational scenes that we had all been involved in during our years at Hogwarts, he would be far more likely to share Lily's principled disapproval than he would James' gleeful triumph.

James had grown out of such behaviour, of course, and he had had no end of decent qualities, but I was still very unwilling to talk to Harry about the more negative traits his father had possessed as an adolescent, and so I chose the easy way out, the vague but hopefully complimentary remark that Harry could chose to interpret as he liked. "I just mean that you are much more like your mother than people would think when they first look at you, Harry," I finished quietly. "In time, you will come to see just how much."

There was a pause, an almost embarrassed one in which I sensed the dynamic of our relationship shifting again, and I decided it was time to return the subject of the patronus lessons. A barrier had been temporarily broken, but I was still his teacher, he was still my student, and I knew that we were not about to strike up the informal, familiar relationship that, during the first year of his life, I had automatically assumed we would have as he grew up. One day, perhaps, we might, but it was not going to happen now.

"You did extremely well today," I said. "We'll try and do another lesson before your quidditch match. Next Tuesday?"

Harry nodded, his mouth set in a grim line, and I suppressed a smile. He may lack James' arrogance, but he had no shortage of either his or Lily's fierce determination, and I could only hope that he wasn't too hard on himself if he didn't manage to produce a corporeal patronus in the following lesson.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, as he left the room, and I found that I was still smiling as I packed up, knowing that the thanks referred to far more than the bar of chocolate that I had presented to him just moments before.

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><p>Please review x<p> 


	26. The Truth Will Out

**Disclaimer: All events in this chapter are referred to in The Prisoner of Azkaban.**

Thanks for the reviews!

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five<strong>

The Truth Will Out

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><p>I sat in my office, my mind - which I had been completely unable to switch off recently - racing. I was still thinking about Sirius, about the stag patronus Harry had produced during his quidditch match which had been the spitting image of Prongs, about the full moon that was to rise that night, about the the execution of the Hippogriff that was to take place that evening. The Marauders Map, that had, as I had once jokingly predicted, fallen into Harry's hands, and which I had confiscated for his own safety was now open and working on my desk. I looked down at the parchment, on which I had seen Harry, Ron and Hermione's dots moving down to Hagrid's hut a few minutes before. I wasn't planning on telling anyone, because I had no desire to get them in trouble, particularly as I knew that Harry's actions only corresponded to what James would have done many years before, but I also wanted to watch them carefully, to make sure they were safe.<p>

I was staring idly at the moving dots, fondly remembering the fun we had had creating it, when suddenly my attention was caught once more by Harry and his friends, and I bent closer over the map, unable to believe what I thought I had just seen. The three of them were now leaving Hagrid's hut, but right next to Ron's dot was another. A new one.

Bearing the name Peter Pettigrew.

"_As long as they're alive and in the Hogwarts grounds, their true identity will show up on the map_."

Sirius had said it, the day we put the identity charm on the map, and the words rang as clearly in my mind as if he were standing next to me, sending my brain into overdrive as I tried to imagine an explanation for my dead friend appearing on the map.

Perhaps the map was just faulty due to its age? I wasn't really kidding myself. James and Sirius's magical talent had always been exceptional, and they had spent many weeks poring over some of the most complex books to ensure that the charms placed on the map were both foolproof and everlasting. Perhaps dark, penetrating magic may have tricked it, bewitched it to show Peter's name. But who could have done it? The only other possessors of the map since our time were Filch and a group of underage students, none of whom would have possessed the power or the motive to do so.

The thoughts that had been greatly troubling me since finding out the details of James and Lily's death resurfaced. The utter disbelief that Sirius could have sold out his dearest friends returned, and as I put this thought together with the almost non-existent possibility that the map could be lying, by heart started racing.

The map was infallible. Which would mean that Peter was indeed running around in the grounds at that very moment. And that would mean that Sirius hadn't murdered him all those years ago. And that might just mean, as I had so desperately wanted to believe, that he had not betrayed Lily and James either. And that... would change _everything_.

**oOo**

Light hit the outsides of my eyelids, and I struggled to force them open. Every time a small amount of brightness streamed through the lids I felt an agonising stab in the back of my retinas and a stray image flashed through my brain.

_I was running towards the Whomping Willow, immobilizing it for the first time since my school days and plunging into its depths, desperate to find out if what the map had told me was indeed true._

_Sirius was crumpled before me, filthy, ragged and broken, but, as I had only just realised, completely innocent of the crimes he had been convicted for, and I was stretching out my hand to pull him to his feet, a lump forming in my throat as I embraced him warmly._

_Harry was staring at me in shock, his eyes full of disbelief and hurt, and I was trying to explain, pleading with him to understand before it was too late._

_Hermione had discovered my secret, had known about me since being the only one to write the werewolf essay that Snape had set. I should have known, she reminded me in so many ways of Lily, and I was deeply grateful to her for keeping quiet about it. But she was now telling Harry, and I was fervently hoping that his anger at my apparent betrayal wouldn't stop him from listening to what Sirius and I had to say._

_"Get away from me, werewolf." Ron's words hit me like a physical pain but I tried my best not to show it. I couldn't blame him for being suspicious and there were far more important issues at stake._

_I was trying to describe the road that had led Peter, Sirius and James to becoming an Animagi, trying to tell the story as rationally and as calmly as I possibly could, but even to my ears it sounded like a very convoluted tale, and I had a horrible feeling that Harry didn't believe a word of it. Ron and Hermione were also looking skeptical._

_Snape's voice was sneering coldly from behind us as my heart gave a jump of alarm and looked round to see him standing just a few feet away, a malevolent, hatred-filled look on his face._

_A surge of hopelessness was overwhelming me as I begged him to listen, to understand, but knew it was pointless as he pointed his wand at my face. Why should he listen to us, after all, given what had happened last time he'd heeded something that Sirius had told him._

_There was a bang, and I was lying on the floor, bound and gagged, struggling against the ropes that were twisted tightly around me. Then another bang as__ Snape was blasted backwards by the force of Ron, Hermione and Harry's disarming charms, and I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe Harry would listen to us after all._

_Ron's rat was transforming before our eyes, into an older, plumper, more balding, but very recognizable version of the boy with whom I had spent my entire youth, and I felt disgust rise up inside me as I looked down at him. How could I never have suspected that he was the traitor all along? _

_Sirius was apologising for thinking I was the spy, but I was feeling too guilty at suspecting him to feel hurt myself. I could tell that he had suffered far more than I had in recent years, but looking into his sunken, haunted eyes, I saw the tiniest flicker of warmth as they gazed back at me, and I realised that however much had changed, the friend I had known and loved was still there somewhere. I had been wrong to ever doubt him._

_Sirius was explaining his own side of the story, how he had persuaded James to switch secret keepers, how the knowledge of his innocence had kept him sane in Azkaban, how he had slipped past the dementors and escaped the dreaded, deserted fortress, how he had come to watch Harry play quidditch, and as I saw Harry's face soften, I knew that the battle was won, that he understood. Harry believed us._

_Peter, very much alive and cringing before us, was sobbing as Harry begged us not to kill him, and I felt an inexplicable sense of relief as I exchanged a glance with Sirius and we both lowered our wands. However much I hated him in that instant, Harry was right. James would never have wanted us to become murderers for the sake of one spineless little coward._

_We were all awkwardly shuffling through the tunnel under the tree, and in spite of the bizarre turn of events and the painful reminder of Lily and James' death, I was feeling happier than I had in a very long time. Sirius was innocent. And alive. And soon he would be free._

_The moon was appearing from behind a cloud and my spirits plummeted instantly as I remembered the horrible truth. I had missed my potion._

_Entirely against my will, my body was changing, my spine curving, my face elongating. The filthy creature that had been dormant and contained inside me all year was escaping, unleashed once more into his fully-fledged, monstrous form. __A horrible howl was issuing from my own mouth as the light of the full moon hit the dead centre of my eyes. Then everything became a blur._

Finally, my eyes snapped fully open, and as my pupils adjusted to the light I realised that the soft feeling beneath my back was not my mattress, but the moss covered ground of the forest. The light hitting my eyes was from the sun that was streaming in through the thicket of branches curving above me. My clothes were in shreds. My limbs were aching more than they had in a very long while. My head was pounding. And my mouth was dry with fear. What had I done?

**oOo**

Dumbledore surveyed me carefully. He had just filled me in on the details of the night's events and I was too shocked to say anything much at all.

"You're sure that I didn't bite anyone?" I said urgently. I didn't remember biting anyone, but then I never remembered every single thing that happened during my transformations, and I couldn't shake off the horrible thought that I might have bitten Harry, Ron or Hermione, who would have been completely defenseless against my bestial form. Or Sirius, who might not have been able to transform in time. Or even Snape. Little as I liked him, I wouldn't have wished that upon anyone.

"Quite sure," Dumbledore affirmed gently.

I took in a deep breath. That was a relief, of course, but it didn't change what I knew would now have to be my course of action.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," I said. "I will resign immediately, of course."

Dumbledore looked quite shocked. "Resign?" he inquired. "Why? I have nothing to blame you for, Remus. I have already explained to the minister that you were doing everything you possibly could to help. He does not know all the intricate details, of course, but I am well aware that had you not intervened the situation may have spiraled wildly out of control. Peter would have been killed, in his rat form, without explanation. Harry, Ron and Hermione would never have understood the truth and Sirius would have been subjected to the mercy of the dementors without further questioning. It is unfortunate, certainly, that you missed your potion, but with a little more precaution there is no reason why that situation should repeat itself!"

He was looking at me kindly, but the thought that I may have bitten someone was not the only thing on my mind. I knew that Dumbledore was now aware of our animagus transformations and what we had got up to at school, and I could barely meet his gaze for fear of seeing anger in his wise old face.

"I betrayed your trust, Professor Dumbledore," I said, feeling like an eleven-year-old boy in trouble again, disgraced and ashamed. "I put others in danger. Both back then and this year."

I felt the guilt I had been battling with all year besiege me. I would never really be able to express how deeply grateful I was to Dumbledore for letting me into the school in the first place, then for giving me not only a job, but a chance to reconnect with the wizarding world. Nor could I explain how terrible I felt for leading my best friends and other students into danger. "I'm sorry," was all I could manage, hating myself for the feebleness of the word. But Dumbledore's smile didn't falter for a second.

"Then, as I am perfectly willing to accept your apology, I see no reason why you should not continue to teach here," he said. "You have been a big success with most of the students and I am quite sure that Harry, Ron and Hermione can be trusted to keep your secret."

I still hesitated.

"Please consider it, at the very least," Dumbledore said and I nodded reluctantly, still unsure of what to do. "Wonderful!" he continued. "Now, I suggest that we both go and get some breakfast. I believe there are blueberry pancakes today."

I was heartened by his bracing tone, but we had barely stepped out of his office when I realised something was very wrong. A group of students we passed on the stairs immediately quickened their pace and I heard them break into urgent, scandalised whispers behind me. We had almost reached the entrance hall when two girls, both giving me a horrified glance, turned and ran the other way. Finally,we were just about to enter the great hall when a group of third year Slytherins walked out through the great wooden doors and stopped dead at the sight of me. Pansy Parkinson let out a piercing laugh, Blaise Zabini gave a low snigger and Draco Malfoy merely looked at me with contempt.

"So the truth's out," he drawled. "Wait until my father hears that Hagrid wasn't the only scum I had teaching me this year!"

Dumbledore pointedly cleared his throat next to me, and Draco fell silent, but his pale eyes still looked at me with distaste, and the sense of foreboding I had experienced upon exiting Dumbledore's office reached a peak. If I needed anything more to confirm my suspicions, it came in the form of Severus Snape, who exited the great hall shortly after his most prized pupils and stopped dead at the sight before his eyes.

Pansy let out another high-pitched shriek of glee and Malfoy smirked. "Get to class, all of you," Snape said to them, but there was no hint of reprimand in his voice, merely satisfaction.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice was cold as he looked towards the man for an explanation, but even this could not quench the triumphant glitter in Snape's eyes.

"Draco came to me during breakfast and said that he had heard disturbances last night and I'm sorry to say, caught up as I was in trying to present him with a brief but satisfactory explanation-" Snape's mouth twisted a little as he confirmed what I had already guessed. My secret was out and would no doubt be over the whole school within an hour.

"It is very unfortunate," Snape finished, his face saying the exact opposite, but I had already decided that I wouldn't retaliate and would instead retain what little dignity I had left. After all, I had been seriously thinking about resigning anyway. I would just take this as a sign that it was what I was meant to do. I sighed and turned to Dumbledore. "Well, that makes my choice a little easier, at least, headmaster. I might as well go and sort out the paperwork now."

Dumbledore sighed too, but did not attempt to protest as I turned away. He knew, as well as I did, that Snape had finally won this particular battle.

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><p>Tonks comes in next chapter!<p>

Please reviewx


	27. If Only

**a/n** The majority of the rest of the story will be devoted to Remus/Tonks, although it will be balanced and not just about the romance side of things. I know alot of people have probably been reading this for the Remus/Tonks parts so I hope people like it! I enjoyed writing this chapter :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

If Only

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><p>So I was, once again, unemployed. But rediscovering a taste of my old life and realising that one of my best friends was both alive and innocent was enough to stop me isolating myself like I had done before. I had earned enough at Hogwarts to afford a reasonable place to live, continue to purchase the Wolfsbane potion and, if I was frugal, sustain myself for a long while. This was just as well, as finding another position was proving difficult, but I did not despair. I made sure that I used magic for everything, determined not to let my skills slip again. I kept in touch with both Dumbledore and Sirius, and I read the news every day in order to keep up to date with the events of the Wizarding world. It was through these sources that I found out that Harry had somehow been put in the Triwizard Tournament, presumably against his will, and was to compete against much older and more experienced students than himself. I monitored the Daily Prophet even more closely after that, although as most of it was written by Rita Skeeter, it was rare that I gauged any useful information from it. I hated Rita on principle. Only that summer, I had had the misfortune of reading a particularly vindictive article on "<em>the intended abolition of half-breeds in the work place<em>," which, inspired by the news of my resignation from Hogwarts (portrayed in the article as an instant and shameful dismissal), and fulled by a nasty piece of anti-werewolf legislation drafted by a woman called Dolores Umbridge, was the main reasons that I was now not only finding it impossible to get a job, but receiving more prejudiced treatment than ever before.

Nevertheless, I persevered with the Daily Prophet, as it did present me with a few key facts when stripped of the exaggerated gossip, and I was eager for as much news on Harry as I could get. I probably should have written to him, really, and sometimes I was on the verge of doing so, but I wasn't at all sure what I would say to him. The boundaries of our relationship had never been clearly defined after I'd ceased to be his teacher, what with everything that had happened at the Shrieking Shack and me leaving the school in such a haste the next day, desperate to get away from the scandalised whispers. I was therefore hesitant, unsure how a correspondence with Harry would start, but I did know deep down he would be pleased to hear from me, and so I made a vague resolve to write to him when the Tournament was over and things had settled down.

I really should have known, given the events of the past thirty years, that expecting things to calm down could only guarantee a bombshell. And sure enough, on the night of the third task, the night which should have marked the end of a difficult year for Harry and all those who cared about him, the night that should have been cause for celebration, proved to be the night that brought the most unwelcome news I had heard since learning of my friends deaths fifteen years before.

**oOo**

I was sitting in my living room, unable to concentrate on anything and wondering how Harry was getting on, feeling uneasy because I knew that whoever had entered him in the tournament had not done so because they wanted to bring him fame and glory, when there was a muffled thump on the door. Confused and still quite apprehensive, I opened it to find the great black dog that represented the wild adventures of my youth, sitting on my doorstep looking quite as thin as the last time I had seen him. I gave a cry of delight which died on my lips as the dog bounded in and transformed, and I saw the severe expression on my old friend's face. When he spoke, his voice was brusque and flat.

"He's back," he said quietly. "Voldemort. He returned tonight." And he sank into a chair in disbelief and shock.

Over the next few hours, after much explanation and many questions, I managed to find out all the details, how Harry had been taken during the third task and forced to watch Voldemort's return, how the other Hogwarts' champion had been killed, how Harry had fought back and escaped. Finally, after a long silence in which we both reflected on the horrific turn of evens, Sirius, looking completely drained, said, "He saw Lily and James."

"What?"

"They- they came out of Voldemort's wand. Priori incantatum." Sirius explained what he had learned up in Dumbledore's office. Every word was laboured, painfully stated, and I remembered learning about the complex branch of magic in our final year Charms class. I couldn't even begin to imagine how it must have felt for Harry, standing there watching the echoes of his parents issuing out of their murderer's wand.

"James died first," Sirius said, very quietly. I recalled the shock of finding that information out for myself the year before, but looking at Sirius's face, I could immediately tell that the news had affected him even more than it had me. He had never known anything about the events of that night. He had been sent almost instantly to Azkaban after their death and there been no time during our last meeting for an in depth catch up on everything he had missed, even if the details of his friends' murders had been an appropriate topic of conversation. Sirius had buried his face in his hands and I quietly shared his despair, but it wasn't until I heard a muffled sniff that I realised he was crying, and my mouth literally fell open in dismay.

Despite all the years spent in his company, I had never known Sirius shed so much as a single tear. _I_ had cried occasionally, when the pressures of the full moon became overwhelming or when I had lost the people I loved the most. Peter, the coward, had turned on the waterworks numerous times in our first few years at school and I'd even witnessed James in tears of grief when his parents had passed away.

But Sirius didn't cry. Not ever. No matter what happened, no matter how hard the losses he suffered, I had never seen him succumb to tears. I had always assumed it something that he was not even capable of, and it was the sight of him, head bowed, sobbing uncontrollably into his hands, his thin shoulders heaving, that shocked me more than anything else had that night. And there was absolutely nothing I could do or say, so I sat there in silence, fighting to stay in control myself, feeling my own eyes well up as the bark-like sobs issued from the crumpled figure of the man in front of me, until finally he took a deep, ragged breath.

"I failed them," he said thickly, looking up but not meeting my eye. I made to protest, but he talked over me.

"It took me so long to convince James to choose Peter," he said, his voice still shaking as he dragged his torn robe sleeve across his face and streaked it with dirt. "He thought I was the best person for the job and I wanted to do it. Desperately. I knew it would drive me mad if I wasn't involved in the process of hiding them. But.. _everyone_ knew how close we were. We were sometimes mentioned as partners when the Order was in the paper, people knew that I'd been James' best man, people knew I was Harry's godfather... So many people who would immediately assume... who would think to track me down. And- and I knew I could never betray them voluntarily but I was terrified of somehow having the truth forced out of me. And I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I ended up being the one who gave them away."

He was speaking fast, the words tumbling one after the other out of his mouth, and I wondered if Sirius had been wanting to get this off his chest for a very, very long time.

"Lily admitted that she'd been worrying about the same thing, and she agreed with me, and eventually James was persuaded to choose someone else."

"But you can't really blame yourself for that," I said quietly, as he lapsed into agonised silence. "It's true. You would have been hunted down. You would have been Voldemort's first target. And he may well have forced the truth out of you just as quickly as he got it from Peter anyway."

But the manic gleam returned to Sirius's eye at the mention of Peter, and he looked completely sick as he finally managed to spit out the words.

"They were going to ask you."

I had not expected this and I felt my eyes widen, a lump suddenly taking up most of the space in my throat as Sirius continued to speak.

"It wasn't that they _didn't_ trust Peter. You know James, he trusted all of us, but when I told them they might be better off secretly choosing someone else, someone less obvious, it was your name, not Peter's, that was first out of his mouth."

"But you thought I might betray them." I said, completely calmly, because I already knew the answer. I was very careful to keep any hint of accusation or bitterness out of my voice, but Sirius's face was haunted with remorse as he went on.

"I thought I was doing the best possible thing. James didn't believe there was a spy at all but I wasn't so sure. I knew it wasn't me, and I thought it couldn't possibly be Peter. I didn't want to believe it was you - of course I didn't - but I said that they needed to be careful, just in case..."

He trailed off and started to apologise but I waved it away, just as I'd done the year before. I had always suspected it of course, even dreaded it, but when finally presented with the confirmation, it had been a long way from the most important issue at stake.

"I think James knew what I was getting at but he point blank refused to acknowledge it. And Lily told me in no uncertain terms that she'd have trusted you with both hers and Harry's life in an instant, but-" the warm rush of gratitude that I felt for my late friends was immediately overwhelmed by Sirius's anguish, "my argument won over in the end. They turned, in secret, to Peter, following my advice... my stupid, thoughtless advice. And I'll never... _never_ forgive myself."

I couldn't bear the sight of his tortured face any longer and decided enough was enough.

"Sirius, come on," I said, finding my voice. "You did what you thought was best. I don't blame you for what happened, Harry definitely doesn't, and you know that Lily and James wouldn't either. They would just be glad that Harry knows the truth now. They would just want you – want us – to protect him as much as we can, now that we're involved in his life."

I could only guess how unbearable it must be for Sirius to have to live with the knowledge that he had talked Lily and James out of not one, but two trustworthy secret keepers, and made them pick the only one of their friends who would not guard the information on their whereabouts to the bitter end. But I meant what I had just said. I didn't blame him at all, and it was so easy, with the benefit of hindsight, to trivialise the situation we had been in at the time, to forget that those unfortunate decisions had been agonising enough to make in the first place. It was so simple to say _if only_, and _what if_, and I knew only too well the devastating power of those words, for I had spent my whole life with them replaying over and over like a stuck record in my mind. If only my father had never offended Greyback. If only I had never been bitten. If only I was just another, _normal_ wizard. If only I could get a job. If only my best friends were still alive...

The list went on and on, but then didn't it work the other way too? For once, in the wake of Sirius's despair, I was the one contradicting my usually despondent train of thought with rationality. What if Dumbledore had never become headmaster and I had never been allowed to attend Hogwarts at all? What if Sirius had never escaped from Azkaban? And what if, on that terrible, tragic night, Voldemort had not only killed Lily and James, but their tiny son as well?

"Just be thankful that Harry survived," I said softly. "Both back then and tonight." And Sirius, his face still contorted with grief, bowed his head and said nothing more.

**oOo**

Dumbledore made contact with us the next day, coming in person to my little flat.

"I can't stay long," Dumbledore said, declining my offer of a drink. "I need to return to school as soon as possible. Alastor Moody is making a good physical recovery, as is Harry, I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear, and I have spread the word of Voldemort's return to all those I believe we can trust. Our one stroke of luck, in spite of everything else, is learning about this on the very night it happened, and we must not delay in setting our defence strategy in motion."

"What's the plan?" Sirius asked. He had recovered from his breakdown the night before and his steely resolve had returned, for which I was relieved. I never again wanted to see him so broken and crushed, because Sirius had always, _always_ been the determined one, the one who filled me with confidence, and if he collapsed then I felt there was very little hope for the rest of us keeping it together.

Dumbledore looked between us both, and his mouth was set in a firm line as he replied.

"The Order of the Phoenix is to reform, starting from tonight."

**oOo**

I looked round the room that was steadily filling with people, and felt a mixture of determination and sadness. Several weeks had now passed since the night of the third task, and the Order had wasted no time. Dumbledore, true to his word, was carefully putting out the news of Voldemort's return to a select group of trustworthy people, and we were making steady progress, but it was a very different crowd to the last, because so many of the original Order of the Phoenix had been killed in the first war.

Looking towards the door, I noticed a young witch I had never seen before enter the room. She had a delicate, heart shaped face, a mane of dark hair streaked liberally with pink and blue, a smiling mouth and bright eyes that were surveying the room a little nervously. As if feeling my eyes on her she turned and then, her face spreading into an expression of delight, waved. I was completely thrown, until I realised that she was not waving at me at all, but at Sirius, who was standing next to me. I was still fairly bemused as she rushed towards us and Sirius gave her a hug, and was raking my memory to try and work out if she was an old girlfriend of his – which could have admittedly taken some time, due to their number – when Sirius released her, turned to me and said, "This is Nymphadora Tonks. Her Mum was the one and only member of the Black family that I had any respect for!"

He must be referring to Andromeda, I realised. I had never met her, as she was several years older and had already left Hogwarts by our first year, but she was the only cousin he had ever talked about with enthusiasm, due to her outright disregard of their family's pure-blood strictures, an attitude which was, of course, wholeheartedly reciprocated in Sirius himself. Turning back to Nymphadora, he said, "Mad Eye told me they'd recruited you!"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it when Kingsley asked me!" Her eyes sparkled as she looked round the room looking slightly awestruck. "Still, I was really pleased. Especially when I found out you were innocent and you'd be here too! Things were never quite the same after you'd gone," she finished, a little sadly.

Sirius gave a tight sort of smile. "I don't think I've seen you since your seventh birthday party," he replied, and I could tell that he was determinedly steering the conversation away from any unpleasant memories.

"Oh yeah," her face split into an even wider expression of amusement, "was that the time Mum said I was only allowed one slice of cake, and you put a replenishing charm on my plate so I didn't run out?"

"Yeah," Sirius said sheepishly. "And I wouldn't have done it if I'd realised you were so prone to projectile vomiting." He made a face and I joined in the laughter at this point, somehow unable to take my eyes off the vibrant young woman who stood in front of us.

"Can't believe it's been that long," she was laughing, and Sirius returned the smile, but I saw his face fall again almost immediately, no doubt now overcome with memories of what he had been doing in those fifteen years. He hastily gestured to me to change the subject.

"This is Remus Lupin, an old friend from school."

"Yes of course," she said enthusiastically, turning to me and returning both my handshake and smile. "I've heard a lot about you!"

"You have?" I could hear the astonishment in my voice, and she made to explain, the wide grin never leaving her face.

"Well yeah, I mean Sirius has mentioned you before, he used to tell me stories about what the Marauders got up to!" She gave her cousin a grin and he looked quite impressed by her detailed memory. "But I was just talking to Molly Weasley's children. I was at school with Bill and Charlie but I'd never met the younger ones. They're great! They were filling me in on all the Order members, because I was a bit nervous, being new and all, and I knocked over a load of stuff in the kitchen so Ginny made me a cup of tea to calm me down-" she was rambling a little now, and seemed to realise it, because she broke off and laughed again before saying, "Anyway, they said you used to teach them and they really liked you. The twins said yours was the only class they never tried to bunk off! And they told me what happened and what Snape did," she added, looking sympathetic. "That was bad luck. I absolutely hated him when he taught me! But potions was one of my best subjects so he struggled to find much to criticize."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter and launched eagerly into a rant about our former nemesis, but I had stopped listening, lowering my eyes while my heart sank like a stone. So I had barely met this women and she already knew what I was. I was vaguely surprised she could even look at me, let alone that she was prepared to engage me in conversation. Most people, the second they found out, forced a polite smile onto their faces (some not even bothering to do that) and made as quick a getaway as possible, and I had found that there had been a dramatic increase in this attitude since Rita Skeeter's unpleasant article the previous summer. Those in the Order were generally an exception to this rule, thankfully, but I was always apprehensive when I was introduced to someone new, and in that moment I could not bring myself to look back up into Nymphadora's carefree face, terrified of catching a glimpse of the barely concealed disgust that I had seen many a time before. But I felt as if she was looking at me in consternation, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her glance worriedly at Sirius, who was still merrily abusing Snape, clearly thinking she must have offended me in some way.

"Oh you'll have to excuse Remus," Sirius said dismissively, and I couldn't fail to detect the the bite of impatience in his voice. "He's under the impression that the minute people find out about his condition they'll decide he's not worth their time!"

"Oh," Nymphadora looked at me in apparent surprise and then said bluntly, "Well, that's a bit ridiculous!"

"_Don't be ridiculous,_" Lily had said to me, time after time, both during our years at Hogwarts and after, and the memory of her gentle, accepting kindness was enough to bring a small smile back to my face as I saw it mirrored in the young witch who now stood in front of me, completely unperturbed - even I could see that now - by the news of my affliction. There was not time to speak anymore, however, for both Dumbledore and Snape had just arrived, and the meeting began at once.

I tried to stop myself thinking about the woman I had just met, determinedly keeping my eyes facing forwards and not sliding along the row to where she was sitting, two seats away, listening very intently to all that was being said. I had long ago accepted that I would never have a normal relationship, let alone with someone who was so young and vivacious. But, although I just about managed to force Nymphadora Tonks out of my mind and turn my full attention to the meeting, every time the pink and blue hair flashed in the corner of my eye, I couldn't help hearing louder than ever before the two words that had dominated my thoughts for so many years.

_If only._

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><p><strong><em>An_ **Ok, in book 6, Ron says that Sirius and Tonks never knew each other before he went to Azkaban but I chose to ignore that. It's much more fun to write if they were old friends.

Please review :)


	28. The Trouble With Feelings

**a/n** Thanks for the reviews! In terms of this story relating to Lupin's biography on Pottermore, I might make a few references, but I had written quite a bit of this stuff before I read it, and so not all of it ties in.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven<strong>

The Trouble with Feelings

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><p>Nymphadora Tonks soon became a regular visitor at number twelve Grimmauld Place, even on the evenings when there were no meetings, and she would even pop in sometimes in the mornings before she went to work, so as I was staying in the house with Sirius when I wasn't out searching for early signs of organised werewolf movement, I started to see a great deal of her. I couldn't help but notice very quickly that she was completely unlike any of the other aurors I had known over the years, who, while not always as harsh and unyielding as Mad Eye Moody, were generally cool and dignified, not necessarily unfriendly but definitely a little intimidating. But Tonks was different. Lively, personable and always up for a laugh, she had an easy-going streak that made her entirely approachable in spite of her high profile job. The Weasley children, who often loudly declared their frustration at being completely left out of everything that was going on in the Order, took to her immediately, because she was sympathetic towards them, always treated them with a kindly respect, and consented to tell them a few more things than the rest of us were willing to divulge.<p>

"Sorry, sorry," she said guiltily, as I walked into the sitting room one afternoon to find her telling Ginny how to tell if an imperturbable charm had been placed on the meeting room door. I hid my amusement as Ginny gave me a sheepish look and hastily ran upstairs.

"I know what Dumbledore said but I just feel so bad for them," Tonks blurted out to me, as I sat down on the opposite sofa, looking at her with raised eyebrows but now unable to stop my mouth from twitching. "It must be so frustrating to be here every day but not have a clue what's going on!" She was still looking at me a little nervously, as if fearing a reprimand, but I just gave a soft laugh.

"So do I to be honest," I admitted. "But I'm less nervous about Dumbledore's reaction that I am about Molly's! You might be too once you've seen her in a rage!" She also laughed loudly, and I felt a strong tug somewhere deep in the centre of my chest, a feeling that had become a regular occurrence whenever I was in her presence.

**oOo**

I had a great deal of respect for Molly Weasley, but I couldn't help but feel that her concern for her children's psychological well-being was sometimes a little counterproductive, something that became particularly apparent a few days later. Tonks, Sirius, and I were eating breakfast with her, talking in low worried voices about the dementor attack that had been set on Harry the night before, when her four youngest children and Hermione came charging angrily into the kitchen. Both Ron and Hermione were holding pieces of parchment and their fingers had noticeable welts in them.

"Harry's been attacked by dementors!" Ron burst out at once, and I sighed and exchanged a knowing glance with Sirius and Tonks over the table. The younger ones had been full of questions the night before, after witnessing Dumbledore's fury at Mundugus Fletcher for abandoning his watch, but Molly had packed them all upstairs refusing to tell them what had happened. The rest of us had been of the opinion that she should probably inform her children of the dementor attack before they had a chance to correspond with Harry themselves and get into an unnecessary panic, but she had insisted on waiting until there was a confirmed plan of action, and so the scene that instantly erupted before our eyes was not in the least bit unexpected.

"Look, we'll go and rescue him!" George was saying determinedly. "We know the way from when we flew the car there."

"You'll do no such thing!" Molly exploded. "This doesn't concern you!"

"Mum, he might be expelled!" Ginny wailed, her eyes sparkling with angry tears.

"You flew a car?" Tonks enquired, looking interestedly at George, as Hermione immediately turned to Ginny and began to recite a long list of reasons why, if the Ministry were to follow their own rules concerning the reasonable restriction of underage sorcery, Harry couldn't possibly be expelled.

"What if the dementors attack again?" Fred yelled.

"He's our friend too you know!" Ron was ranting, over and over again.

"If anyone goes to rescue him, it will be me," Sirius's voice thundered over all of them.

"ENOUGH!" I was surprised at the force of my own voice as I stood up to try and settle the chaos, and even more astonished that everyone fell silent in an instant. In spite of my year of teaching I was still pretty unaccustomed to having any amount of authority, but seeing the eight faces turned expectantly towards me, I took a deep breath and tried, very sedately, to address each problem in turn.

"Right. Molly, Ron's right, they are Harry's friends, and they have a right to know what is going to happen to him. However," I turned to them quickly to prevent any renewed outbursts, "the situation is extremely serious and requires careful strategy and preparation before we act. Ginny, Hermione's also perfectly right, there is no reason why Harry should be expelled if he was only using magic to defend himself, which is why," I raised my voice a little to drown out Fred, George and Sirius's resumed mutterings, "rushing into reckless plans may jeopardize his chances of a fair hearing when it comes about." Fred and George subsided and Ginny looked a little calmer.

"We are currently working carefully on a safe and legal way to remove Harry from his aunt and uncle's house. One that doesn't involve flying cars," I added to Fred and George, who grinned back at me cheerfully. "There will be two guards watching over the area at all times until then and so I am asking all of you, please, to remain calm, remember that Harry is fine, and not dive into any rash attempts at rescuing him. And that, Sirius," I finished warningly, "goes for you as well." Sirius looked sullen as he too stopped muttering under his breath.

I seemed to have succeeded in restoring calm, for although the youngsters all exchanged worried glances, they said no more. Hermione and Ron went to pacify Harry's owl, who seemed to be the culprit for their bleeding fingers, and the twins and Ginny sat down at the table, while Molly gave me a grateful smile and busied herself in preparing their breakfast. Sirius, considerably less affected by my words, was glowering up at me from his seat opposite, but I was used to dealing with my old friend. About to make a joking comment to try and cheer him up, I was distracted by the look on Tonks face as she stared at me across the table. If I hadn't known better I would have said it was admiring.

"Nice speech!" she winked at me. "Put us in our place! Mind you, I would have definitely been up for flying a car," she murmured in an undertone to Fred, who had just sat down next to her, and he gave her an approving slap on the arm.

"Spoken like a true Weasley!" he declared enthusiastically. "I knew you were one of us at heart!"

"Tonks, dear, _please_ don't encourage them!" Molly said exasperatedly, bustling about dishing out fried eggs. I caught Tonks' eye across the table and tried to hide a grin. She always amused me, and I couldn't help admiring the way she found such a good balance between the serious demeanor necessary for her job and her role in the Order and the more laid-back attitude she adopted in the relaxed, sociable atmosphere of the house. I found I was never able to fully switch off and differentiate between the two, but Tonks seemed to do so with absurd ease. She had now turned away and was talking to Ginny, but I found that my own gaze kept flicking back to her. Her appearance, which she changed on a daily basis, was generally pretty noteworthy, but I was finding it particularly difficult to take my eyes of her that morning. Her hair was light pink as it hung down to her shoulders in shining curls, and her eyes were the vividest blue. I was just taking in the full effect of this striking combination when I felt Sirius's eyes on me, and hastily looked away from her, only find him smirking at me, his eyebrows raised. Well aware that he had caught me out, I nevertheless feigned indifference and shot him a questioning look of confusion before picking up the Daily Prophet from the middle of the table.

"Oh, I think you'll find that far less satisfying to look at," Sirius said smoothly, and I gave him an irritated look, not wanting him to humiliate me in front of everyone, but thankfully no one else seemed to cotton on to the double meaning of his words, and the topic of conversation instantly turned to how the Daily Prophet were abusing Harry and Dumbledore, and how frustrating it was that the Ministry weren't listening to what they had to say.

"Urgh, I don't think I can put off going to work any longer!" Tonks sighed at last, glancing at the ancient clock in the corner of the room, as Fred and George simultaneously disappeared with two loud cracks and Molly went storming off upstairs to shout at them for using magic unnecessarily. Tonks got up to leave and paused at the mirror that hung on the wall by the door, pondering over her current reflection. "Probably should have it shorter for work, shouldn't I?" she mused, screwing up her face. In an instant the curls had vanished and her hair had become short and cropped, although she compensated for its slightly less voluminous style by changing the colour to a vivid, shocking pink. She turned questioningly round to face us all, and I instantly decided that I liked this look even more than her previous one.

"That looks hot!" Ginny said decisively, echoing the thoughts that I would never be bold enough to express myself.

"Very nice!" Sirius said approvingly. "My mum will turn in her grave. Make sure you walk past Kreacher on the way out too, the shock might be enough to finish him off!" Tonks grinned, at I felt the usual pleasant feeling in my chest as I watched her face light up.

"What do you think Moony?" Sirius asked casually, but I could hear the sly edge to his voice behind the innocent tone. I thankfully managed to stop myself from going red, but knew that I must have looked quite awkward all the same as I mumbled something complimentary as well. Tonks looked satisfied as she said her goodbyes and departed, and once Ginny had also left the room, Sirius turned to me.

"What?" I said defiantly, as his mouth stretched into a smug smile.

"You know perfectly well what," he retorted.

I did, of course. For what Sirius lacked in tact, he more than made up for with shrewdness, and the time we had spent living together after school had even given him an edge over our other friends when it came to interpreting my thoughts, something that had not been in the least bit altered despite our thirteen years lack of contact. I knew full well that he had seen the way I looked at Tonks, noted my mingled pleasure and embarrassment whenever she engaged me in conversation, had probably guessed that I was trying and failing to prevent myself from liking her too much, and was now planning on taking every possible opportunity to draw attention to this fact. I decided not to begrudge him his bit of fun, given that he was bored out of his mind in Grimmauld Place and had very little other form of entertainment. Nevertheless, as I was not even prepared to admit my feelings to myself, I was certainly not going to acknowledge them in front of Sirius, and so I did not reply.

He did not pursue the subject, but it still seemed to put him in a good mood for most of the morning. That afternoon however, after finding out that Dumbledore was not going to let him take part in the mission to rescue Harry, he became sullen and moody again, an attitude that did not abate over the following week. He became more and more irritable, snapping at almost everyone who so much as spoke to him, and had several petty disagreements with Molly. His recklessness contrasted starkly with her overcautious attitude, and I had a feeling that everything was going to come to a head the night that Harry arrived at Headquarters, something that was confirmed the second Harry opened his mouth to ask about Voldemort.

**oOo**

"You'll be in trouble when she comes back," Tonks said cheekily to Sirius, as Molly finally won her argument that we had given Harry and the others quite enough information about the Order and that it was time for bed, marching them upstairs herself. I couldn't help thinking she was right and that we _had_ let a bit too much information slip in the face of Harry's persistent questioning. We had certainly never planned on telling him anything about what Voldemort was after, the mysterious prophecy that we were all striving desperately to keep safe. Even _we_ didn't know exactly why Dumbledore thought it was so crucial to keep the information it held away from Voldemort.

Molly came striding back into the room a few minutes later, and sure enough, she looked furious. Even her hair seemed to bristle with rage and her cheeks were very flushed.

"You had no right to tell him about that!" she said angrily to Sirius.

"I had every right" Sirius snapped back at her. "He was the one who saw Voldemort return. He can't just be wrapped in cotton wool and kept ignorant about everything. He's not stupid, you know."

"He's just a boy, Sirius."

"He's fifteen. That's old enough and trustworthy enough to be told _some_ information, I think!"

"But that's not the point! Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore _should_ be telling Harry all this himself," Sirius interrupted, now looking even more furious. "Or at least some of it. No good is going to come of keeping him in the dark, I can assure you!"

"Oh, so now you know better than Dumbledore, do you?" Molly said scornfully, and as I saw Sirius's face blacken I knew that it was time the argument stopped. I was accustomed enough to his stubbornness to know that everything Molly said would only add fuel to the flame, and that the best thing to do was call it a night and let Sirius work off his temper on his own.

"Sirius, Molly, I think that's enough now," I broke in calmly, as Sirius made to retort. "Sirius to be fair, we probably did say a bit too much, but Molly, Harry _isn't_ a child, you know. After everything he went through last year he is bound to want as much information as possible. And yes, of course we have to respect Dumbledore's wishes on that subject, but we also have to understand that Harry has a right to feel a sense of injustice about being kept in the dark. Most of us here would feel the same way if we were in his position. After all, if it wasn't for him we wouldn't be putting all these plans into action at all."

"It's been a long day," I added, before either Sirius or Molly could resume their argument. "I think it's time we all retired."

"Do you always have the last word?" Tonks enquired, as everyone around us took the hint and started getting up and moving to the door. I noticed Sirius, who was still sitting and scowling, raise his head very slightly to take in our exchange as I got up and started to clear the table, smiling back at Tonks as I did so.

"No," I said ruefully. "Very rarely, in fact. And Sirius will confirm that I never got to have the last word when we were at school!" Sirius smiled grudgingly, no doubt still smarting from the dispute, but Tonks laughed, and I was reflecting, as I always did, on how much I liked the sound of it as she started to follow the others towards the door. Almost there, she turned back towards us as if to say something, caught her foot on a stray chair leg, and went flying to the ground with a loud thump and a groan. Behind me, Sirius gave a snort of laughter but I made towards her worriedly.

"Are you all right?," I asked in alarm, stretching out my hand to help her up.

"Yeah, fine," she sighed, as I pulled her to her feet. "It's just this house, there are so many things to trip over!"

"You do seem to be the only one of us constantly crashing to the floor though," I joked, and she rolled her eyes.

"I've always been dead clumsy," she admitted. "I think I'd broken every single piece of my parents' best china by the time I left home! Mum got seriously fed up with having to repair it!"

"Well, if you could break a few old Black relics while your here then that would be greatly appreciated," Sirius chipped in from behind us and it was only at the sound of his voice that I realised Tonks' hand was still in mine even though she had been standing up now for several seconds and no longer required my assistance. I cleared my throat and hastily dropped it, suddenly feeling flustered.

"And I'm sure Remus will be more than happy to pick you up from the floor every time," Sirius added in an innocent tone of voice, and I could feel my face going red, feeling distinctly annoyed at his habitual lack of subtlety. Tonks, however, couldn't have looked less embarrassed, and her face took on a slight smirk as she looked me directly in the eye.

"Oh, I'll be counting on that!" she assured me. She held my gaze for a couple more seconds, then winked at me as she always did and turned to go, leaving me feeling confused.

"See you Sirius!" she called over her shoulder.

I turned back to gathering up the glasses, trying to avoid Sirius's eye, but I could see that he was looking distinctly more cheerful than he had for several days, and when I finally looked up his mouth was stretched into the same gleeful smile he had worn several days before. I just shook my head slightly at him, in no mood to hear him go on about my supposed feelings for Tonks, but his next words were not what I had been expecting and caught me off guard.

"Mate, she's definitely got a thing for you!"

I stared at him, utterly taken aback.

"_She's definitely got a thing for you_," James had said countless times to Sirius, when a fellow student had said something cheeky to him, burst into uncontrollable giggles as he passed, or else turned red at the sight of him. I had always joined in the teasing, feeling as I did so a very slight pang of envy because I knew the same words would never be said to me.

But now that they had been, the only emotions I could register were bitterness and regret. Bitterness because I knew that what Sirius had just said was definitely not true, and regret because even if by some miracle it was, there still wasn't anything I could do about it, given who and what I was. I therefore ignored Sirius's comments and busied myself in clearing the table, refusing to heed his words. He was wrong. There was absolutely no way that Tonks could have any kind of feelings for me, and there was no point in me even entertaining the thought that she might.

Nevertheless, as took the remaining pieces of crockery through to the kitchen and made my way up to bed, I found that I was greatly looking forward to her next visit to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

**oOo**

"Rita skeeter hasn't written anything for a while now, has she?" Tonks mused one afternoon, as we sat at the kitchen table. The house had been significantly quieter for many weeks now, as Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys had gone back to school or to the Burrow, but Tonks continued to drop in frequently anyway, to my secret delight. On this occasion, she had come by early before an evening meeting, and was now flicking idly through the Daily Prophet that Sirius had recently cast away in disgust. "Wonder what happened to her?"

"She's most likely biding her time," I said wryly. "It's probably too much to hope that she's been stabbed to death by her own quick quotes quill."

In spite of my attempt at a joke, I knew that my tone of voice had come out very sour, and I looked up to find Tonks staring at me looking rather surprised and Sirius looking highly amused.

"What?" I said to Tonks.

"I just didn't know you had it in you to be so vindictive," Tonks grinned. "Not that I don't approve. She really is a piece of work! Last year she wrote an article about the ugly freaks that were infiltrating the auror department. Ugly freaks being me," she added offhandedly. She did not appear to be in the least bit bothered by this crude description, but I felt a further surge of dislike towards the malevolent reporter as I took in Tonks' current appearance, her vivid hair that stood out against the grim, grey backdrop of the decor of Grimmauld Place, her high cheekbones that emphasized her bright smile, her wide set eyes that were twinkling merrily back at me. She must know she was a long way from being either ugly or a freak, of course, but that didn't change my feeling of anger at Rita Skeeter for the cutting and potentially hurtful words that she always threw out so readily.

"She's one to talk, given that she looks like she's been dragged through a hedge backwards and draped with a dead crocodile," I muttered. Sirius snorted with mirth and as I murmured a few more fairly profane things about Rita Skeeter Tonks also burst out laughing. I smiled back at them reluctantly, already slightly regretting my petty comments but inwardly pleased that I had given them something to laugh about, particularly Sirius, who had been extremely subdued since Harry had left for school.

"Isn't he great when someone annoys him?" Sirius said to Tonks, grinning at me in the affectionate sort of way that one would look at a young, talkative child, as I merely shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Get him started on Dolores Umbridge, go on! That always guarantees a major rant!"

"Don't blame you! She's pure evil," Tonks said fervently. "How they are letting _her_ teach at Hogwarts I really don't know."

At that point the doorbell rang and Sirius let out a low groan, knowing that it was the cue for his mother's portrait to start creating havoc and, more likely than not, Kreacher to come ambling down the stairs muttering abuse under his breath.

"So why the hate for Skeeter?" Tonks enquired, putting the paper aside and leaning towards me a little as Sirius hurried out of the room to subdue the chaos. "Because of what she wrote about you when you stopped teaching at Hogwarts?"

I suddenly felt awkward in the face of her usual bluntness. Tonks was so thick skinned, and might even be scornful of how I let other people's words affect me, particularly as she was noticeably unconcerned about the unkind comments Skeeter had written about _her_. I shrugged noncommittally. "It's everything she writes really," I muttered. "Like all those articles on Harry last year. And Hermione. And Hagrid. But yes, I'm not going to pretend I relished the anti-werewolf article!"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I think she's a complete bitch!" Tonks said forcefully, and I smiled. "But I hope you don't let what she said get to you too much. The way I see it, I think I'd actually be more worried if someone like that had _good_ things to say about me. So I don't care what she writes!"

It was probably much easier for Tonks not to care, of course, given that there was no valid reason why anyone should dislike her, whereas no one could deny that my dangerous affliction was abhorred by the majority of the wizarding population. Nevertheless, her positive attitude was, as ever, highly contagious and my spirits had risen at her words.

"And for what it's worth, I threw that article away after reading the first paragraph!" Tonks went on. "And I didn't even know you then!"

I felt a warm glow flicker inside my chest as she beamed at me. "That's- well... That's actually worth a great deal," I said softly, trying to sound matter of fact and not wanting the sudden surge of emotion to show in my voice or my expression.

There was a short pause during which she continued to grin cheerfully and I pondered over what she had just said, and then Sirius came back in, followed by Sturgis Podmore and Emmeline Vance who had just arrived for the meeting. Sirius gave me a very knowing look as he saw Tonks and I still sitting facing each other, smiling broadly and I, as usual, chose to ignore him, but even as we all turned our attention to the upcoming meeting, the warmth that the bracing words had given me did not disappear.

That night, however, as I lay in bed, I was feeling slightly less cheerful. I was still certain that Sirius was wrong about Tonks liking _me_, but even I could no longer deny that he was right about my feelings for her. Unfortunately, admitting it to myself did not solve anything. In fact, given that I was going to be spending a lot of time in her company for the foreseeable future, it looked like it was going to present me with a bit of a problem.

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><p>Please Review :)<p> 


	29. A Bitter Reality

**Disclaimer**: Certain events in this chapter are referred to in book 5, and Fred's line about rat droppings is something I sadly can't take any credit for :)

**a/n** Thanks for the reviews! I can't really show Tonks point of view completely as this is all in the first person, but I will try and show how she feels through Lupin's interpretation of her actions.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight<strong>

A Bitter Reality

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><p>"How about these for Harry?" Sirius said, jabbing his wand at an advert for a set of advanced defensive magic books. As I had next to no money, I had gratefully accepted Sirius's offer to pitch in together for our friends' Christmas presents. As Sirius was still bored out of his mind and stuck in the confines of Grimmauld Place, he had enthusiastically taken on the task of carefully selecting gifts out of the Daily Prophet Christmas mail order service, and so the arrangement was working out well for both of us.<p>

"They'll help him with his defense group!" Sirius added.

"Keep your voice down," I murmured, for Molly was somewhere in the house, and I knew that she still had no idea that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and likely Fred, George and Ginny too were involved in an illegal defence against the dark arts group, despite the dire warning that Sirius had faithfully relayed to her children when he had gone to speak to them via the fire in the Gryffindor common room. After finding out that they were still going through with the idea in spite of Umbridge's decrees, we had very determinedly avoided confirming the truth to the other Order members (except for Tonks, who had been so enthusiastic about the students "getting their own back" that we hadn't been able to help but confide in her).

"Tonks would love these," Sirius said, breaking into my thoughts just as I was starting one of my fairly frequent daydreams about her and wondering when we would next be paired up together for Order work. He had returned to searching the adverts and was pointing to a picture of some psychedelic, vibrant dress robes, which were indeed very much Tonks' style. "Or did you want to get her something special yourself?" he added, with his usual smirk.

"Oh shut up." I swore at him under my breath as I tried to get back to reading my book. I wouldn't normally have been anywhere near as irritable, but the full moon was that very evening and, even though my transformations were still being kept at bay, because Sirius had insisted on giving me the money to purchase the Wolfsbane potion, I was feeling ill at the thought. I did not need to be pestered about Tonks at the time that was the most poignant reminder of why I would never be able to have a normal relationship.

"Sorry," Sirius raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at my unusually crude reaction and seemed to realise he was in dangerous territory. Sadly, this had never prevented him from speaking his mind before, and nor did it now. "Seriously though, you do really like her, don't you?"

Despite his crafty comments, it was the first time he had asked me directly about it and his forthrightness caught me off guard. It had been a good many years since we had discussed any sort of feelings for girls. Even then, it had almost always been his that had been the interesting topic of conversation, and the exchange had rarely progressed beyond Sirius saying how attractive someone was and me asking dryly whether this one would last more than a week. He was looking at me quite intently, and I did consider confiding in him, because I knew that in spite of his jokes he would probably have some decent advice if I asked for it, but then I decided there wasn't much point. I knew I couldn't be with Tonks and no amount of bracing advice would ever be able to change that.

"Of course I like her, she's a good friend." I said at last.

"Right," Sirius said sarcastically. "Friends. Ok." I gave him a dark look, and he raised his eyes skyward.

"Fine," he said. "All right, I won't go on about it, but I know perfectly well that's not true, so can I just say one thing?"

"I have a feeling you're going to anyway," I sighed resignedly, and waited as patiently as I could for Sirius to deliver his speech so I could get on with my denial in peace.

Sirius just grinned and went on, "She likes you. It's so bloody obvious, she not exactly one for subtlety-"

"Yes, well that seems to be a family trait," I interjected pointedly, but Sirius disregarded this. "Well, she does! And I know you well enough to know that you feel the same way. So what's the problem?"

He was speaking quite earnestly now, and felt bad for being so touchy because I knew that he only had my best interests at heart. But, as usual, he was failing to grasp the full depth of the issue. "The same problem that there always has been Sirius, that's one of the few things that hasn't changed in the last twenty years, you know," I replied, trying to sound matter of fact but knowing full well that my voice was laced with regret as I spoke.

Sirius looked like he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes again with difficulty. "Ok, I can just about understand you feeling like that with people who don't know about you... but with Tonks? It's not like the whole Mary situation, is it? She knows everything and she couldn't care less."

"_I_ care, Sirius. Plus I'm much too old for her. And anyway," I decided that the best option was to resume my first argument, even if I was fooling no one. "You're wrong, I like her as a friend. Nothing more."

"Sure," Sirius made a disbelieving noise in his throat and I looked at him reproachfully, wishing he would just go back to looking for Christmas presents. "Well, you can't expect me to believe that!" he protested. "I've seen the way you talk to her. And you can hardly say she's not your type, given that she could transform herself into the most beautiful woman in the world in the space of about ten seconds. You couldn't take your eyes off her the other day."

"I thought you weren't going to go on about it," I snapped, something which I instantly felt guilty for, but I still decided I'd had enough of listening to him recite Tonks' good qualities, all of which I was more than aware of, and slamming my book shut, I left the room.

Sirius kept well out of my way until after the full moon, when I was feeling in a much better mood and sincerely regretting my irascibility, but to my great surprise he apologised to me before I could say anything about it.

"Look, I'm sorry. I won't mention it any more, ok?" he said gruffly. "But just think about what I said, yeah?"

I nodded, rather mollified by his unusually apologetic tone but still thinking privately that it would make no difference, yet somehow I did keep reflecting on what he had said over the weeks that followed, and I subsequently started reading into Tonks' behaviour far more than I would have normally done. Had it been wishful thinking on my part that her smile had widened when she saw me enter the meeting room only the other day? Had the hand she placed on my shoulder as she left for work one morning been an entirely friendly gesture, or something more? Did she listen to everyone with such an intent expression in her bright eyes, or was it just me?

Sadly, I had to go up North for a while at the start of December, and so I did not see her at all in the run up to Christmas, but I couldn't help letting her creep more and more regularly into my mind even then. I thought about her pretty much every day, replayed past conversations in my head, and I even, in moments of weakness, found myself wondering if Sirius was right. Could she possibly feel the same way about me as I felt about her?

**oOo**

On Christmas morning I was sitting in the kitchen with the twins, who were looking particularly festive in bright red and green hand-knitted jumpers, when Molly came in looking tearful. "Christmas owls. They came last night," she murmured, handing me an envelope. My heart leapt as I recognized the neat, round handwriting instantly and eagerly opened the letter. It was written in bright pink ink, and thanked me for mine and Sirius's gift ( which she hadn't yet opened but was sure would be wonderful), told me she hoped I liked my gift from her, said she was looking forward to seeing me again soon and wished me a lovely Christmas day. I read it a couple of times, feeling a secret thrill at the words "_looking forward to seeing you_," and the "_Lots of love, Tonks_," that she had signed off with, and thinking that this was probably going to be one of the most enjoyable Christmases I'd had for a while. I had spent it alone the previous year and as the Christmas before had unfortunately fallen on the full moon, I had not been able to appreciate the festivities at Hogwarts.

I was about to start my third reading of the letter when I became aware that Molly, who had sat down at the table next to me, was extremely upset. Percy, still refusing to talk to any of his family, had sent back his own bright Christmas jumper unopened and unacknowledged, and I couldn't help feeling that the twins' efforts to cheer their mother up were not going down brilliantly.

"Come on Mum, he was always the worst one anyway!" George was saying. "You've still got us!"

"Yeah, be grateful that you have six other children who aren't humongous piles of rat droppings!" Fred went on, but Molly just put her face in her hands and gave a muffled sob.

"Fred, George," I said quietly. "Maybe you should go and see if Harry and Ron are awake."

They took the hint, and I turned to Molly sympathetically as they left the room, putting what I hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Please don't be upset," I said gently. "I know family arguments are horrible, but things normally work out in the end!" I suddenly had a fleeting memory of a time when I had sat next to another kindly redhead and done my best to give her some words of wisdom on a family problem. Remembering that my advice to Lily had been fairly well received back then, I decided to give Molly some similar encouragement, telling her that I was sure that Percy would come round with time when he realised how much they all meant to him, and that she should just persevere gently and keep sending him news without going over the top. Eventually she seemed a little heartened by my words, looking up and drying her eyes with a loud sniff.

"Who's your letter from?" she enquired with a watery attempt at a smile as I handed her a tissue.

"Tonks," I said, trying to sound casual but knowing my face had brightened as I said it. Molly looked both intrigued and delighted as she raised her eyebrows. "Just to say Merry Christmas," I added with a shrug, but I knew the half suppressed smile was still playing on my mouth and Molly had seen it, because she now looked much happier than she had before.

"She's very fond of you, you know," she said softly, giving me a knowing look that was uncannily like the one that Sirius was fond of bestowing on me.

I was thankfully saved the necessity of replying as she suddenly realised that the breakfast was burning and got up hastily to tend to it, but I pondered the meaning of these words for most of the day. I did not tell anyone else about the letter, not even Sirius, but I did think back to what he had said the previous month, not only wondering if he was right, but also firmly considering the possibilities that would offer for the first time. For once, I couldn't see any reason why Tonks _shouldn't_ like me as more than a friend. And perhaps it was simply the festive atmosphere, or the pleasant company that I had missed over the past three weeks, or the many glasses of wine that an unusually jolly Sirius kept pouring me over Christmas dinner, but even the argument that I couldn't be with her, regardless of how she felt, was seeming a lot weaker than it had ever done before.

**oOo**

My mind was still overwhelmed with this new, exciting possibility as I accompanied everyone on their visit to see Arthur Weasley in St Mungo's, but the sight of him sitting up cheerfully in his bed as he opened his presents did distract me from my self-absorption a little. I had not seen him since his accident at the Ministry of Magic, but having heard how bad it had been, I was relieved to see that he was looking well, despite his recent attempt at "muggle remedies". I knew quite a bit about stitches, and was mildly intrigued by their usage on a magical wound, but the feeling was clearly not shared by Molly, and the rest of us made a hasty retreat as her rage began.

The younger ones darted off to the tearoom, but I made my way to the other side of the ward, hoping to talk to the thin, young man in the end bed, who I knew had been bitten by a werewolf. I felt especially sorry that he was alone on Christmas Day, an experience that I could relate to only too well, and I was vaguely thinking that I might be able to share some of my unusually high spirits with him. He was staring mournfully up at the ceiling and glanced round without much interest as I approached.

"Merry Christmas," I said.

He merely looked me up and down and half raised an eyebrow.

"Arthur told me about your bite," I persevered, not entirely sure what I was going to say, but wanting to express sympathy and understanding to the young man who, currently good-looking and healthy, would from now on likely be condemned to a lifetime of prejudice and unkind treatment. Not that I was planning on saying that to him, of course.

"What's it to you?" he asked shortly.

I hesitated, but reasoned that no harm could really come of telling him that I was also a werewolf. In fact, I had a feeling that my job in the next few months would likely involve trying to convince some of the other werewolves to join our side. I might as well start with one who had only just been infected and thus had not had a chance to be tainted with prejudice. And so I told him how I'd been bitten as a child and had had this condition my entire life, attempting to reassure him by saying that the Wolfsbane potion had made my life a lot easier in the last few years. He didn't look any happier, merely scornful.

"Right," he said, and I could hear the slightly sarcastic tone behind the outward politeness he was trying to show to someone he had only just met. "So you lead a perfectly normal life do you? Got a nice home, decent job, steady income?"

"I-" I faltered. I didn't have any of these, of course, and I suspected that he knew that quite well, because he was regarding my hesitation with a grim look in his eyes.

"Suppose you've got a woman too?" he went on lightly. "A nice steady girlfriend who conveniently overlooks the fact that you turn into a monster every month?"

Still, I didn't say anything, but his words were like a knife in my gut. Some form of emotion must have shown on my face, because the man's scorn faded instantly and he went back to staring at the ceiling, looked highly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to be rude. And it's none of my business, of course. It's just been a bit of a shock, you see."

I did see. I had suffered enough over the past thirty years to understand completely why he was so upset, and so I didn't even have the heart to resent him for his words, but as I murmured something about being sure that times had changed and that it would be different for him and made my way back to Arthur Weasley's bed, the elation I had been feeling since that morning had evaporated. My bubble of hope that maybe, just maybe something could actually happen between myself and Tonks had been burst by the man's few words. What had I been thinking? Of course such a young, spirited, carefree woman would not be interested in someone like myself. How could I have been so ridiculous as to even entertain the thought that she might be?

"Did he give you a hard time?" Arthur asked, looking sympathetic as I made my way back towards them. Molly was still mumbling her indignation at Arthur's "meddling" with stitches, but as she glanced over towards me her annoyance seemed to fade, and I realised that I must be looking pretty miserable. I hastily fixed a smile on my face.

"No more than expected," I shrugged. I was certainly not going to go into how the man's few words had annihilated my rare moment of self esteem that day.

"Well, don't take it personally, he's been snapping at everyone since he came in," Arthur assured me. "The bite is unfortunate, of course," he added, giving me an understanding sort of smile.

Unfortunate. That was another word I had heard many a time over the years. _Unfortunately_ I wasn't suitable for such and such a job. _Unfortunately_ my employer would have to let me go. "_It is very unfortunate_," Snape had said, after "accidentally" letting my secret slip to the entire school. Unfortunate that I had had to leave Hogwarts, that it was impossible for me to get another position, that I now had barely a penny to my name. Unfortunate that I had fallen painfully hard for a woman with whom I had no chance whatsoever. And why? All because of a pair of teeth piercing my flesh when I was a boy. Arthur couldn't really have put it more succinctly if he'd tried.

"Yes," I agreed, smiling sadly back at him. "Very unfortunate."

**oOo**

"You all right?" Sirius asked me abruptly, cornering me on the stairs after I had excused myself from the Christmas celebrations that were taking place that evening over mulled wine, mince pies and some carol singing. I had tried my best to join in, but the conversation with the werewolf in St Mungos was still replaying in my mind and I had very quickly lost heart. Sirius, as usual, had not been fooled by the cheery face I had put on as I had said goodnight, but I merely nodded in response to his concerned question. I had no desire to share the humiliating journey that my emotions had been on that day. "Just tired," I assured him.

Sirius still looked fairly suspicious, which was understandable, given that I had had several good night's sleep since my latest expedition and the full moon wasn't for another ten days, but for once he did not pester me, merely continued to narrow his eyes as I turned away and made my way up to my room.

Tonks' letter from that morning was still lying on my dressing table, and after getting ready for bed I took it up and read it one more time, remembering how happy it had made me just a few hours before. But rereading it didn't inspire same the rush of joy it had that morning. The words were the same, of course, just as kind, the message just as sincere, the Christmas greetings just as heartfelt, and the _Lots of Love, Tonks_ just as affectionate. But I could now see it for what it really was. A letter from a friend. A very good friend. But nothing more.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	30. True Colours

**Disclaimer: **This first scene is from Lupin's official biography from Pottermore. I know I haven't really followed that version (mainly because I'd written quite a lot before I read it) but this bit seemed to fit in quite well so I've put it in and expanded it a bit.

Thanks, as always, for the reviews :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine<strong>

True Colours

* * *

><p>Tonks and I were quiet, crouched behind a hedge as we kept watch through a gap in the thicket of leaves, which marked the safe distance from the house that belonged to the Avery family. It was a fairly mundane mission, but necessary, as the Death Eaters within the Ministry posed one of our biggest threats, particularly since the mass breakout from Azkaban, and it was essential that we kept a close and regular note of any unusual movements, so that they did not get too many steps ahead of us.<p>

"I hate jobs like this!" Tonks sighed, breaking the silence. "Nothing to do but wait." I smiled. I knew that she much preferred to be in the thick of the action and the heart of the chase, and I did agree that in comparison sitting and watching a house was quite a dull duty, but I always enjoyed this type of work when I was paired with Tonks, because it gave us plenty of opportunity to talk, with the added bonus that Sirius wasn't there to make inappropriate comments at any given moment. Not that I didn't feel extremely sorry for him, stuck in the house night after night unable to do anything productive.

"At least we're out and about," I pointed out, and in the dim light of the early Spring dusk I saw Tonks' face take on a slightly guilty look, and I knew that she was thinking about Sirius's predicament as well.

"Yeah, I know," she admitted. "I shouldn't complain! I do feel so bad for Sirius!"

"I'm worried he'll do something really stupid if he's shut up for much longer," I said, expressing a thought that had been troubling me with increasing frequency in recent months. "I just wish Dumbledore would let him do _something_. He knows as well as we do how reckless Sirius can be! Especially nowadays."

"Poor Sirius," Tonks said sadly. "Finally gets out of Azkaban and now he's a prisoner in his own home."

"I know," I sighed. "Mind you," I added, trying to voice the more optimistic view I held on the situation. "I still think he's doing alright, considering everything he's been through. I know he's not exactly cheerful but at least he's keeping it together. Most people would have gone outwardly mad long ago."

There was a pause as we both reflected on our friend.

"He's still handsome too, isn't he," Tonks said suddenly. "Even after Azkaban. Most people just waste away completely after a while. You should see what my Uncle Rodolophos looks like now compared to fifteen years ago!"

"Yes well, Sirius always was the good looking one," I said. "Always had girls falling at his feet." I instantly regretted my words, knowing that I sounded horribly resentful. I had become tetchy and irritable ever since the unfortunate events of Christmas Day, but that was no fault of Sirius's nor Tonks', and it wasn't fair to take my mood out on them, particularly not when they were the most warm and friendly company I had had in fifteen years. I tried to rectify my attitude. "Don't tell me you've fallen for him too?" I said lightly. I had honestly meant it as a joke, but somehow the bitterness had not left my voice, and I knew in an instant that I had just made the situation about ten times worse.

My question was met with an icy silence and I looked sideways to see that Tonks had narrowed her eyes at me. Her hair had taken on a slightly reddish tinge, which I knew it always did when she was provoked into one of her generally short but heated outbursts.

"I was just stating a fact," she snapped, her voice a low hiss of anger. "And quite apart from the fact that he's my cousin and I don't share the Black family views on incest, you know perfectly well who I've fallen for!"

I blinked at her.

"Well at least you would, if you weren't too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice!" Tonks added, sounding just as bitter as I had done a few seconds before but also distinctly scornful.

There could only be one way to interpret these words, and despite my denial I wasn't so clueless that I didn't understand what she meant. But the wave of joy at finally receiving solid confirmation of what Sirius had told me before Christmas was extremely short lived. Tonks' feelings were all very well, but the bigger issue, the _monstrous_ issue, still remained and always would, and my episode of selfish weakness on Christmas Day had long since faded. It would be wrong of me to let anything happen between us, regardless of how she felt.

I therefore feigned a look of confusion. "I've no idea what you're talking about," I said steadily. Even though her face was partially obscured by the quickly falling darkness, I quailed under the livid glint that appeared in her eye as I said this and, unable to bear the tension any longer, I got up and took charge of the hourly patrol round the perimeter of the hedge, despite it being her turn to do so.

When I returned to our spot she had become cold and distant, refusing to even acknowledge my presence, and I was too nervous to try and talk normally again. We completed our necessary tasks that night in silence, only speaking to each other when necessary, and I was furious with myself for opening my mouth and ruining what would have otherwise been (as there were no complications that night whatsoever) a very enjoyable experience in her company.

"Night," I said quietly, as we got back to the door of Grimmauld Place in the early hours of the morning, but she had already turned on the spot and disapparated.

**oOo**

Tonks was not one for holding a grudge, and by the time we saw each other again, only two days later, her attitude had completely thawed and she greeted me as cheerfully as ever. I, however, had been severely rattled by her comments, and was now feeling very awkward in her company. I therefore avoided her as much as I could in the weeks that followed our mission, in spite of her regular attempts to engage me in normal conversation.

"What the bloody hell has got into you recently?" Sirius asked me in astonishment, after I had very deliberately ignored Tonks one day after a meeting and instead spent an hour speaking to Elphias Doge who, nice as he was, did not produce the most interesting topics of conversation. Sirius had been suspicious of my negativity for quite a while now, but I was not prepared to talk to anyone, even him, about what had happened, and I heard him sigh impatiently as I left the room.

Only a week later, we received word that Dumbledore had had to flee Hogwarts, and in his absence I took it upon myself to manage some of the more difficult and dangerous tasks that now had to be dealt with. This not only gave me plenty to distract myself with, but also - as it involved journeying all over the country - meant that I had a reasonable excuse to be away from the house for a long period of time, and so could continue to evade the problem all together.

A couple of days after my return, however, I was sitting in the kitchen reading a report of the previous meeting, catching up on what I had missed, when Sirius spoke up.

"So I talked to Tonks while you were away," he said, quite causally but with a serious undertone, and I sighed inwardly. I should have known that Sirius would not be content to let the matter rest. I didn't say anything, just pretended to keep flicking through the notes as Sirius continued. "She said you've barely spoken to her since your last mission together."

I still didn't say anything, just gave a shrug of confirmation and refused to look him in the eye.

"She told me what you said and how she got annoyed and now she's worried that she offended you," Sirius, never one for beating about the bush, pressed on, seemingly unperturbed by my resolute silence.

"She didn't offend me," I said shortly, barely moving my mouth as I kept my eyes fixed on the parchment in front of me.

"Ok," Sirius said, in a measured sort of voice. "So then you're avoiding her because...?" he trailed off and waited expectantly but I just shook my head and went on pretending to read the paper.

"Remus?" I was so startled by the gentleness in Sirius's voice that I looked up at him. Sirius didn't go in for the mellow approach, or any kind of soft touch, and he never had done. He had always been the brusque one, the one who blurted out his thoughts as and when they came into his head and didn't much care how harsh or insensitive he sounded when he did. This attitude had only been amplified by his years in Azkaban, and I was completely thrown by the cautious tone of voice, even more so by the compassionate look in his eye as he surveyed me.

"I did try and tell you she felt the same way as you did," he said quietly.

"It doesn't matter," I said, finding my voice at last. "Nothing can happen, she must know that!"

"Why?" Sirius said insistently. "And don't give me your usual rubbish about being too old and dangerous," he added impatiently as I made to speak. "Give me an actual valid reason why, if she likes you for who you are, you can't just accept that!"

"Why do you care so much?" I shot back at him, unable to provide a satisfactory answer to this. "Because you can't get out of the house and you just want to live through us?"

Sirius gave a heavy sigh but did not retaliate, and was instantly filled with self loathing again because I knew that had been a very low blow on my part. I was tired and fed up and had probably become unbearable to live with recently, but Sirius had plenty of troubles of his own without me adding to them.

"Sorry," I mumbled after a moment's strained silence. "I know that recently I've been... I just..."

"The reason I care," Sirius cut firmly over my failed attempt at a decent apology, still in the same tone of voice, and I looked up at him again with sudden interest, wondering what _had_ brought on this speech, this rare display of intense sentiment that I had only seen a handful of times in all the years I'd known him. "Apart from the fact that you're my _friends, _you idiot_, _is because I know what it's like to lose someone because you're too stubborn to admit how you feel." He looked more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him as he went on haltingly. "I know how awful it is to realise it's too late to go back and change the way you acted."

"What are you talking about?" I said, putting down the papers at long last and eyeing him curiously. He did not reply, but I had an idea I knew exactly what he was referring to, because I had suddenly remembered what James had told me all those years before about Olivia Cresswell. How he suspected that Sirius had been in love with her, despite all outward evidence to the contrary. How he was sure Olivia had meant a lot more to him than just another random girl to date for a week and then forget about. How Sirius had likely been too afraid of sounding overly sentimental to admit, even to James, how he really felt. I also recalled the many days Sirius had spent shut up in his room after her death and thought back to the transformation that had come over him in the months that followed: the emergence of a grim, vengeful disposition and the loss of the youthful spirit that he would never possess again.

"Olivia?" I asked quietly, my curiosity now at a pique. Sirius gave a very curt nod and I waited, forgetting my own problems out of interest at what he had to say. I had never pressed him about how he had felt about her. His reaction to her death had been quite painful and uncomfortable enough to witness without me asking him for further details, and he had never volunteered the information of his own accord.

"I told her it couldn't happen after we left school." Sirius's voice was a terse whisper as he started to explain. "Told her I couldn't risk it when she was a muggleborn and I had so many Death Eaters for relatives. I don't even know how much of that was the real reason," he added morosely. "We had so many things to worry about anyway at the time and we had only just come of age. I didn't want to have to deal with a relationship on top of that." He swallowed, looking grim. "And so I told her it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore. She was pretty upset too." He was talking to the table now, not looking at me, fiddling with a little splinter of wood that was sticking out of the surface. "I wondered for a while if I'd done the right thing, but then the war got even worse and so I figured it was for the best. And I thought that maybe, if and when everything settled down, we could get back together..."

He trailed off, but I knew the rest, of course. She had died, been brutally murdered by Death Eaters just three months after we'd left school. Sirius had never and would never again have the chance to find out what might have happened between them in more peaceful times.

"So that's why I care," he looked up at me after a long pause, his grey eyes as steely as ever. "Because that year after she died was hell. I couldn't stop thinking what if. What if I hadn't pushed her away. What if I'd stayed with her. What if I'd made more of an effort to protect her. Of course, I've had other things to dwell on since," he said bitterly and I was suddenly overwhelmed with a pang of sympathy for him, feeling even more remorseful for my earlier comments. He shook his head a little impatiently as I opened my mouth to speak and I understood that he did not want pity. He wanted me to listen to the message he was trying to convey. I would have much preferred to offer him the pity, to be honest, but I kept listening all the same.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to tell you that you should get a move on before we all die!" he added sharply, bringing the conversation back to my current issue. "I'm not quite that pessimistic. But she won't wait forever, Remus. And that realisation that you had a chance and threw it away is far worse than not having any chance at all. I can promise you that!"

I had no reply to this. I was somewhat moved by his words, but I was also so used to his careless, offhand manner that I never quite knew how to react to him when he started talking like this. I met his eye across the table and gave a very brief nod, letting him know that I had understood what he was saying, and then an awkward pause descended on us.

"Right, I'm going to look for Kreacher," Sirius said gruffly, and I gratefully accepted without question what I knew to be merely an excuse to leave the room. Once he had gone upstairs I took up the meeting notes again, but I couldn't concentrate on the scribbled words. I just kept replaying Sirius's words over and over in my mind, trying to work out what to say to him when he came back, and what to say to Tonks when I next saw her again._  
><em>

"Sirius?" A voice I knew all too well came from the floor behind me, and I turned, all thoughts of Tonks forgotten as I got to my feet in surprise. Harry's head was sitting in the fire.

**oOo**

Sirius and I exchanged a grim look as Harry's face disappeared into the flames and we both got up from the fireplace. He had witnessed none other than James and Snape's confrontational scene by the lake during our OWLs, and had, by the looks of things, been shocked and distressed by his father's actions.

"That's not good," I said with a sigh.

"Couldn't have picked a worse moment to witness really, could he?" Sirius groaned.

It was a very disturbing thought that Harry seemed to now be basing his judgement of his father on that one incident, an incident which, James had admitted to me only a few months later, he was pretty ashamed of and even wished he could take back. I hoped we had reassured Harry that James was truly not a bad person, and that that had simply been one of the more immature moments of his youth, but I was worried. We had both been too shocked by his appearance in the fire and too short of time to give him examples of James' many decent qualities, and Harry, so much more like his mother than his father in personality, seemed to have taken the scene very badly.

Sirius was muttering indignantly under his breath. "Feeling sorry for Snape!" he spluttered incredulously. "How can he feel sorry for Snape? He was no better than we were! He was the one who started it half the time!"

"You did manage to humiliate him a lot more often than he did you, though," I said, quite fairly in my opinion, but Sirius's scowl deepened.

"Didn't see _us_ trying to use the imperious curse on Mary though, did you? Didn't see _us_ tricking innocent first years into touching dark objects just for the hell of it? And I don't remember you complaining when we blasted him out the way to stop him hitting you in the back with Sectumsempra!"

"I never said I did!" I protested. "_We_ know what Snape was like, but you can't blame Harry for feeling a bit put out after seeing that. It was hardly James' best moment, nor ours for that matter, and I highly doubt that he would ever do something like that, even if he was provoked."

"True," Sirius acknowledged reluctantly. Then he grinned wickedly, looking far more like his old self than I had seen him in a long while, "And at least he didn't see what happened next! Don't want to give him any more nightmares, do we?"

I tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help myself. The thought of Harry's reaction if he were to see his fifteen-year-old potions master dangling in mid-air without any underwear, not to mention Snape's on finding out what Harry had just witnessed, was too much. I found that I was grinning broadly too, and in the shared moment of amusement, any awkwardness over mine and Sirius's most recent conversation was forgotten.

I knew that Harry would get over the shock of what he had seen in time. The more problematic consequence of the affair was that if Harry didn't master Occlumency, the results could be fatal, especially with Dumbledore nowhere to be seen, and so it was fairly crucial that Snape should resume the lessons. Although I did send several messages to him, asking him to confirm that he was continuing with the tuition, I received no word back and I knew it would be extremely unwise to set foot in the castle with Umbridge in charge. Out of options, I could only hope that he had seen sense and had managed to look at the bigger picture. But I remained worried.

**oOo**

"I'm worried," I confessed to Tonks, as the two of us returned, along with Mad Eye and Kingsley, to Grimmauld Place one afternoon, several weeks later. I had been affected enough by Sirius's words to stop cutting her out, and I had to admit it was an intense relief to resume normal conversation with her again after weeks of strained silence. She too had been concerned when I had given her a (slightly edited) version of our conversation with Harry, and was listening intently as I blurted out my fears. "Snape's unlikely to have listened to anything I said, and in spite of what I told him, Harry's definitely not going to try and make amends himself. He hates Snape just as much as James did, and what's more, he doesn't really understand how important those lessons were."

"Dumbledore should have been more open with him in my opinion," Moody growled as we all strode in through into the porch. I hadn't realised he'd been listening to the conversation and turned expectantly to see what he had to say. "Still, we don't question Dumbledore's judgement, as ever. I might go and have a word with Snape myself!"

"Good idea, I don't think even he will dare ignore _you_ Mad Eye," Tonks chuckled. "Where's Sirius?" she added. The ground floor of Grimmauld Place seemed deserted.

"Sirius?" I called, and after a few moments he came down the stairs, his hands covered in blood. Tonks let out a gasp of dismay. "It's fine," Sirius reassured her. "Kreacher just thought it would be funny to stick a knife in Buckbeak's claw. I've patched him up though. He'll be fine in a few days."

As he led us through to the kitchen, we were unsurprised to see Kreacher sitting in front of the fire, looking gleeful. "Suppose you're very pleased with yourself," Sirius hissed at him, kicking him so that he flew several metres across the room and landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor in the corner.

"Sirius!" I protested weakly. I completely understood why he hated the elf so much, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for the pitiful existence that he led, and Dumbledore had specifically asked me to try and persuade Sirius to treat Kreacher a little more kindly.

"Fire's going well," he said, immediately changing the subject as he always did when I tried to remonstrate with him. "It was dying out last time I looked." I looked at the fire, which was indeed very bright, and in my moment of distraction Sirius determinedly turned away and busied himself in making tea. I sighed but let the matter drop, and we sat there at the kitchen table for about an hour, discussing, as we often did, where Dumbledore could be and what he was now doing. We had lapsed into a thoughtful silence when a small white cloud of smoke-like substance drifted in through the door, and the five of us looked at it in alarm as Snape's cold tones issued from its midst.

"_Please confirm immediately that Sirius Black is well and present at headquarters._"

"What's that about?" Sirius asked restlessly, as I immediately drew my wand and sent back a message of confirmation. We all regarded each other in consternation.

"He probably heard a false rumour that you'd been caught or something, I'm sure everything's fine," Tonks said, but she sounded doubtful and I looked grimly back at my old friend. Snape wouldn't give a damn if he heard something had happened to Sirius, and I think we all knew that. In fact, the only reason that he could possibly want to check that Sirius was here, safe and well, was if it was relevant to a far more crucial, Order related - maybe even Voldemort related – emergency.

"I wonder what Snape's patronus is," Tonks said thoughtfully, after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence. "He always sends messages like that! I've never seen what form it takes."

"Probably some foul creature that would reveal his true colours," Sirius said savagely. He seemed unable to relax, or sit down, and was wandering backwards and forwards in front of the fire.

"Or maybe he's simply exercising caution," Mad Eye retorted. I knew he didn't like Snape, but he also didn't hold much patience with the constant questioning of Dumbledore's trust in him and he looked reprovingly at Sirius as he went on. "Doesn't want to be permanently associated with any particular symbol. Might draw unwanted attention to his actions should it be seen by the wrong people". Tonks gave an impatient and exaggerated sigh, as she often did when Mad Eye went off on a tangent about precaution.

"There's something to be said for the art of discretion, Tonks," Mad Eye huffed at her irritably. "Not that it's an art you'll ever master," he added as Tonks rolled her vivid green eyes and tossed back her bright hair, which was currently a melange of pinks and purples and streaming down past her shoulders. I smiled to myself as she grinned unconcernedly.

"You're one to talk, given that you're the only person I know with a magic eye and a wooden leg," she shot back cheerfully. "Is that why never see _your_ patronus either?"

"Quite," Mad Eye growled. "And no doubt why Remus never reveals his."

I was startled by this confident assumption. This wasn't, in fact, the real reason at all. I did not share Moody's overcautious view on the matter of patronuses, which moved so fast and faded so rapidly that it was highly unlikely they could be seen by the wrong people, but I detested the silver wolf that so blatantly symbolized the creature forever dormant inside me. Just looking at it reminded me of my transformations, and I generally sent messages in the same way that Snape did, a shapeless cloud of mist that did not remind everyone who saw it of what I was.

I desisted from mentioning this, but Tonks was staring at Mad Eye in puzzlement. Then she looked back at me and grinned again.

"Very wise," she said, with her habitual wink. "Avoids a lecture from him!" she jerked her head back towards Mad Eye, who scowled.

Evidently she thought that my actions were for Mad Eye's benefit only, and it did not occur to me to correct her and tell her the truth, that aside from her, there was only one other member of the Order to whom I willingly sent my patronus in its corporeal form. This was Sirius of course. Given that he had seen me in my fully transformed state many a time and could read me as easily as a book there had never seemed much point in trying to hide anything from him at all. But I had never really been sure before why I had adopted the same attitude with Tonks, why I had never made the effort to blur the patronus's form whenever I had to correspond with her, like I did with everyone else. Even now, thinking about it properly for the first time, I didn't know, but there was a strange sensation in my chest as I looked back at her and tried to figure it out.

Tonks' expression switched from amused to questioning under the intensity of my gaze, and I hastily stopped staring at her and lowered my eyes, but as the topic of conversation turned once more to Snape's message, my heart was beating painfully hard. Thumping violently with an emotion that was partly worry for the meaning behind Snape's message and partly... something entirely different. Something I had never felt before.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	31. The Last Marauder

**Thanks for reviews! Sorry if this chapter makes people sad!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty<strong>

The Last Marauder

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><p>Sirius must have paced back and forth nothing short of a hundred times when Snape himself appeared at headquarters. He looked coldly round the room where we were all sitting, tense and unable to do anything but hope for more news, and without any preamble launched into an explanation. "Well Black, it appears that your dear godson," his face twisted in displeasure as he said the word, "has caused the trouble we have very carefully been trying to prevent for the last year."<p>

I felt a spasm of fear in the pit of my stomach. Tonks and Kingsley sat up, alert, and Mad Eye got grimly to his feet, his eye spinning around in his head to make sure it was ready for whatever work would now have to be done. Sirius's face drained of what little colour the months of being stuck inside in Grimmauld Place had not taken from in his cheeks. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Snape curtly explained his suspicions, told us how Umbridge had caught Harry in her fireplace, about a cryptic message that he had given him that referred to Sirius at the Department of Mysteries, and that he had not seen him since.

"I can only assume they have decided to go the Department of Mysteries themselves, and if so will be in great danger of running into the Dark Lord's followers," he finished. The urgency to his tone was unmistakable, and I was momentarily surprised. It sounded, just for a second, as if Snape actually cared, as if he was actually worried about Harry and his friends. The feeling disappeared fairly quickly, however, as Snape looked scornfully at Sirius, who had resumed his pacing and was looking as if he wanted to pull out chunks of his own hair, and sneered.

"Just like his father. _James_ Potter never could resist a chance to meddle in things that didn't concern him either. Always putting others at needless risk."

Sirius drew his wand and turned it on Snape, reacting with a speed that surprised even me. "I swear," he hissed, both his eyes and his wand emitting sparks as I made to dive between them. Now was not the time to resume a long-fought argument when there were far more pressing matters to be dealt with, but Sirius shoved me roughly away and Snape lazily drew his own wand to deflect the sparks. "I swear. If you ever mention James again with your pathetic, filthy-"

"Enough," Moody snarled from the corner. "We haven't got time to waste. We need to go to the Ministry at once. Sirius put that away now, and as for you Snape," he glared at the man and even Snape couldn't maintain his disdainful expression as Moody's magical eye looked straight through him. "If you had continued giving Potter his Occlumency lessons then perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess, so they'll be no more mention of his culpability, if you don't mind. Go back to Hogwarts and see if you can find out anything else useful, and try and make contact with Dumbledore."

"It would have made no difference! He was showing no aptitude for the skill whatsoever," Snape snapped, looking incensed, but he consented to return to the issue at hand. "I will go and search the forest just in case trouble has befallen Potter there. I have sent out every message and signal possible to alert Dumbledore, and if he has received them, he will be here in the next hour. I think that someone should stay here to inform him of what has happened." His eyes had fallen on Sirius, and I knew what he was thinking, but Sirius gave an unusually high pitched, incredulous laugh.

"You really think I'm going to stay here, safe and sound, while everyone else goes to try and save Harry?" he said and as Snape's blank face let in enough emotion to confirm this, Sirius went on, "Then you can just shove that wand right up -"

"Someone needs to." Snape cut in. "You are hunted by every wizard currently present in the ministry and of everyone in this room you know the least about the passages and rooms that constitute the Department of Mysteries, which is almost certainly where you need to be heading. It is only logical that you should be the one to stay, Black."

Ironically enough, it was probably the most logical and least taunting thing that Snape had ever said to us, but his earlier comments about James meant the Sirius was certainly not going to listen to reason now. Snape ran his eyes over all of us and merely said, "make sure someone is here when Dumbledore returns," before disappearing in a swirl of black robes.

"Sirius," there was a note of pleading in my voice, but even then I knew it was hopeless. He rounded on me angrily. "Would you stay here? Could you honestly just sit here when Harry could be dying right this second?"

Wordlessly I shook my head and quickly accepted defeat. Of course I couldn't, and even if the opposite were true, there simply wasn't time to argue. Sirius grabbed Kreacher, who had been lurking in a corner, by the scruff of the neck and shook him slightly. "You're to tell Dumbledore what's happened. Every word. You understand Kreacher?"

"Yes master," Kreacher grunted resentfully, and Sirius turned away in satisfaction, but as the five of us prepared to depart, I was shocked by the crafty, malevolent look that had just appeared in the elf's eye. A look that contained, if I wasn't very much mistaken, jubilation.

**oOo**

Curses flew in all directions and I parried those that came my way, one after the other, almost automatically, as I tried to make sense of what was happening around me. I saw Tonks diving out of the way of a killing curse sent by Bellatrix Lestrange, only to be hit by a thick blue jet of light that another Death Eater had aimed at her, and crumple like a rag doll, falling helplessly down the stone seats that lined the room. Panicked, I was starting to run towards her when I saw Harry and Neville in trouble with Lucius Malfoy, and made to help them first, hoping to get them to the exit safely. Then I saw Sirius, stepping, wand raised, onto the dais in the centre of the room to take on his cousin in Tonks' place. He looked grim, determined, no doubt eager to make up for all the time spent doing nothing in Grimmauld Place. But he was too focused on Bellatrix to take note of where he was placing his feet, and with every dodged curse, he moved a little closer to the dead centre of the room. A little closer to the archway. A little closer to that treacherous, rippling veil.

We had managed to piece together a good deal of information about the Department of Mysteries over the last year, and the room with the veil was no exception. Which was precisely why my heart had sunk slightly when Mad Eye had informed us grimly that this was the room that Harry was in. Which was why, as I watched Sirius dance around, unconcernedly dodging the curses his cousin was sending his way, I felt a terrible knot of fear in the pit of my stomach.

I knew that the old archway had been at the very foundation of the Department of Mysteries itself, and that everything else had been built around it. It was essentially harmless, merely a monument that marked a proximity to the world of the dead, a window between one life and the next, through which, just occasionally, the whispers of the dead could be heard, emanating from the souls of all those who had passed away, those who had passed on peacefully and willingly to another place.

But the simple strip of what looked like black, ragged material that fluttered innocently in a non-existent breeze was another matter. Formed, not of any solid material at all, but of the parts of those souls that had been unable to pass beyond the archway, the veil was the dark, lingering essence of those who did not dwell in peace. Those who would never dwell in peace. Those whose souls had been sucked out and filtered through the cold, emotionless depths of the dementors' bodies. Those who had been ripped apart by acts of unspeakable evil. Those who had been so fearful of death that they were now condemned to spend an eternity as ghosts. It was a sinister thought, one that meant that none of us should be anywhere near the veil, because one simple touch might be enough to drag any mortal being from the living world forever.

I knew, but I was fairly certain that Sirius did not. He had not joined in many of our discussions about the Department of Mysteries, too withdrawn and bitter about not being able to do anything useful himself. Or maybe he did know, and his relief at finally being out of his house had made him too reckless to care. "Sirius!" I shouted, wanting desperately to warn him, but my cry was lost in the commotion that was happening around me. Dumbledore had just arrived and was rounding up the Death Eaters. Tonks was still lying on the ground and Mad Eye appeared to be trying to help her. The Death Eaters were shouting to each other, making an effort to escape, but Dumbledore's magic was too powerful, binding and gagging each of them in turn.

_It'll be fine_, I tried to tell myself, concentrating on getting Harry and Neville to safety. _He'll finish Bellatrix and then he'll move_. But it was as I had this thought that a jet of red light streaked past his ear, missing his head by an inch as he ducked. I did not miss the look on his face as he straightened up, a look of cocksure, arrogant delight. A look so careless that he might be a first year student again, jinxing someone in the corridors on the way to class, laughing mercilessly because his twelve-year-old opponent's attempt at sending sparks at him had failed.

But he wasn't a first year anymore, this duel was not about to be halted by an angry professor telling them to get to class, and his opponent was not a twelve-year-old sending sparks at him, rather a lethal, bloodthirsty witch, remorseless and unyielding, battling only to kill.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he taunted, laughing loudly, and a further wave of sickening fear hit me. _Don't antagonise her_, I pleaded silently. But it was too late. The split second he had taken to hit back with the provocation had been enough to divert his concentration, and her second stunning spell hit him directly over his heart. He stumbled backwards, and my cry of anguish was drowned by Bellatrix's triumphant screech. The chilling sound was enough to confirm she too knew that, as soon as Sirius touched the veil, he would not be coming back.

But Harry did not. And I heard him shout Sirius's name, a further note of urgency creeping into each yell when the man did not reappear from behind the archway as I knew Harry was expecting him to. Then I saw him, a blur, running in front of me, sprinting over the dais to see for himself where his godfather had got to. I immediately raced after him, and he had just stretched out his arm towards the treacherous black ripples when I caught him round the chest and held him back. He struggled and fought, screaming at me in fury, but I held on to him with all my strength, pressing his thrashing body tightly into my own, trying to make him understand that it was too late, battling to stay in control myself as I did so. The sight of Sirius disappearing through the veil was etching itself deeper and deeper into my mind with every passing second, but I ignored it. The only important thing in that moment was preventing Harry from touching the veil himself. Sirius had gone through. Sirius was gone. Lily's words, although they had been spoken in jest, fifteen years ago, were all that mattered now.

"_You'd better make sure you're always there as a back up, Remus!"_

Finally, Harry seemed to realise the unbearable truth, and stopped struggling. He was shaking violently as I pulled him away from the archway and tried to take in what was going on around me. Dumbledore had now got a firm hand on the situation, which should have been a relief, but I was too numb with shock over Sirius to register it properly. Bellatrix was still fighting, now with Kingsley, and I watched her with overwhelming hatred as she hit him with the cruciatus curse, my grip on Harry slackening.

"I'll kill her! Harry roared, wrenching free of my grasp and sprinting after her as she sped from the room. "Harry no!" Furious with myself, I made to run after him, but Dumbledore was quicker. "I'll go," he said, pulling me back as I made towards the door. He held my gaze for the briefest of seconds and I saw remorse in his eyes, but there was no time to dwell on it. "Please assess the situation here and find the other students," he said. I watched him disappear in a swirl of blue robes and then, with great difficulty, turned my attention back to the room where Sirius had taken his final breath.

Kingsley, leaning against a broken pillar and breathing heavily, gave me a brief nod to tell me that he was fine as I made my way across the room with Neville. On the way to the door, I stopped next to Tonks and Mad Eye, still lying side by side. Mad Eye was taking small, shallow breaths, his eyes closed, his face pale, and Tonks did not seem to be breathing at all as I, terrified, knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her forehead. It was ice cold, but to my indescribable relief she stirred at the touch, her eyelids flickering open as she looked up at me. "Remus? What - Harry? Happened?" her words were jumbled and distorted and she was shivering slightly.

"It's ok," I assured her. I took her wrist to to feel her pulse, noticing as I did so that her hands were also freezing. Whatever spell had hit her, it appeared to be sucking the warmth out of her veins, and I knew she would need medical attention beyond what I could give her. The only thing I could do for the moment was shrug off my outer cloak and place it round her in an attempt to preserve some warmth. "Dumbledore's gone after Harry and Kingsley and Mad Eye are here. I need to find the others and then I'll come back."

"What about Sirius?" She clutched my hand suddenly and the coldness from it seemed to close round my heart as she said the words. I saw the fear flicker in her eyes at my hesitation, knew that now was not the best time to tell her, but if I didn't say it then I doubted I would ever be able to accept the truth at all. Shutting my eyes to hide the tears that I knew would spring up if I didn't, I managed to force out the dreadful words.

"He - he fell through the veil." I said hoarsely. I felt her grip on my hand become painfully tight for a second, then slacken slightly, and when I opened my eyes she had lost consciousness completely.

**oOo**

Madam Pomfrey wanted me to stay in the hospital wing for the night but I refused. I was fine, physically at least, and I had no desire to watch Hermione and Ron's distressed faces as they finally regained consciousness and were told what had happened. No desire to hear their frantic questions. No wish to listen to Mad Eye's gruff, factual analysis of the fight, nor even Kingsley's calm, tactful words of consolation. The only reason I might have stayed would have been for Tonks, and she had been transferred to St Mungo's for emergency treatment.

I therefore returned to headquarters, stumbling blindly into the entrance hall, wandering aimlessly through the rooms on the ground floor, at a total loss to know what to do. It was completely deserted, with not even Kreacher to be seen, but after a while I heard Phineas Nigellus's voice echoing through various rooms of the deserted house, calling time and time again for Sirius. No doubt he had heard from his portrait in Dumbledore's office what had happened and was seeking confirmation himself.

I went down to the kitchen, the only room without any portraits, so that I would not have to face his snide questioning, and sank into a chair, staring into the dying embers of the fire. The fire that Harry had tried to contact us through only hours ago in a last ditch attempt to check if Sirius was all right. An attempt that could indeed have prevented all of this from happening, if only we had been there. If only we had returned home just half an hour earlier from our mission. If only Sirius had not been upstairs tending to Buckbeak...

As always, it was a terrible and destructive thought, and knowing that no good could ever come of replaying the two words over and over again in my mind, I went upstairs to the top of the house to check on the hippogriff myself. But he was absolutely fine, sleeping peacefully with his claw bound neatly in a white dressing, blissfully unaware that the hands that had tied it would never move again.

I made sure that he had enough water and left the room quietly. As I stepped out of the master bedroom, I saw that Sirius's bedroom door was slightly open and, a very deadened, numb sense of curiosity spreading through me, I walked forwards and pushed it open a little wider so that I could look inside. I had only seen it a couple of times before, and even then not for more than a few seconds while I hovered in the doorway to pass on a message before hastily retreating. It had been very much Sirius's personal space, where he had done a great deal of brooding, and the general rule over the last year had been that if he was in his room, he wanted to be left alone.

It was therefore only now that I had a chance to look around properly, and I stood in the doorway, surveying each wall carefully, noting the stark contrast between this decor and the rest of the house. Bright red hangings covered the large four poster bed that stood to my left. The opposite walls were plastered with muggle posters, mainly of beautiful girls and motorbikes - Sirius's two biggest interests when he had been a teenager. Several messy piles of papers lay on the desk that stood against the wall furthest from the door. I gave a very small, bittersweet smile at the sight of a Gryffindor scarf draped over the chair next to the desk, and crossed the room to pick it up. Sirius had been so gleeful the day he had put it on, that very first morning in the Gryffindor dormitory when I had only just properly met him, James and Peter. He had taken great pleasure in striding about the grounds and castle wearing it, even though it was technically far too warm for scarf-wearing. I ran the worn material through my hands, twisting it miserably between my fingers, wishing more than ever before that I could turn back the clock, go back to that time when everything was simple, a time without pain and loss and suffering...

_ I was watching from a distance, too shy to walk next to them but very intrigued by their confident manner as James and Sirius strolled through the corridors ahead of everyone else on the way to class, Peter just a couple of paces behind them. Sirius threw back his head and laughed uproariously as a girl with white blond hair looked round and gave him a disgusted stare as he passed._

_"Who's that?" James asked with interest, looking back at her. I looked round too and saw she was still glaring angrily after Sirius._

_"My cousin Narcissa," he snorted. "She's a bit put out that I'm in Gryffindor. When I saw her and her parents at Kings Cross she told me she would be keeping an eye on me when I was sorted into _her _house. As if!"_

_James grinned, but Peter said nervously, "She looked so angry!"_

_Sirius just made a scornful noise. "Like I'm afraid of her! She's all talk, no action anyway. Will just write home to Mummy and Daddy and tell them what a disgrace I am to the family."_

_"Have all your family been in Slytherin?" Peter piped up curiously._

_"Yeah," Sirius scowled his displeasure and then smirked. "My parents gave me a long lecture before I left about not shaming the name of Black. Showed them though! I'm almost looking forward to the next family gathering. It'll be so much fun to wind them all up..."_

I shut my eyes tightly as the memory overwhelmed me. _Fun to wind them up_. Yes, Sirius had always enjoyed taunting the other members of his family, never missed a chance to antagonise any of them. And James, Peter and I had laughed along, egged him on even, as he took every chance he could during our first year to provoke Narcissa into retaliating, remaining supremely unconcerned about the fact that she was several years older and (although he would never have admitted it) more magically accomplished than he was. I could still see him, chortling with glee, as she finally snapped and sent a curse flying at him, which missed by several feet as he sped on his way. Never could we have imagined that he would one day pay so dearly for the sake of a similar moment of amusement.

When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly at a photo that was stuck on the wall above the desk, and as I watched the four happy faces smiling back at me, I recognized it as the one that James' mother had taken of us on the last day of the summer before our seventh year. I stared at it, transfixed by how young we all looked, how carefree we appeared. James was running his hand through his hair, making it especially messy for the sake of the photo. Sirius was winking smugly. Peter was smiling nervously. I was beaming at the camera, still, even after six years, delighted to have three such wonderful friends by my side wherever I went.

I reached out to take the photo down, to examine it in more detail, but it was stuck firmly to the wall, and my hand shook as I pulled at it ineffectually. I tried one last, half-hearted tug and then lowered my hand, understanding that I could not remove it, realising that the photo would stay on the wall for as long as the house stayed standing, immortalizing that moment we had shared so many years ago. The moment that represented a final summer of peace and happiness before our lives were ripped, slowly but surely, to shreds.

And it was there, as I stood in my best friend's bedroom, unable to take my eyes of the four young people in the picture, that I was hit by the dreadful, crushing reality. The reality that I had never been able to accept during all my years as an outcast. The one that I hadn't _needed_ to accept since finding out about Sirius's innocence two years ago. And it had been such a relief to not have to even consider the terrible fact anymore, as if a small but very heavy weight had been lifted from my heart the second I had seen Peter's name on the map. But there could be no denying it now, and as I gazed at the almost unrecognizable faces that were smiling back at me, grinning merrily as they would never do in real life again, the world seemed to blot itself out and the awful, finite, irreversible truth crashed over me. James was dead. Sirius was dead. Peter was lost forever.

I was the last marauder.

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><p>:( I'm still in denial about both Sirius and Lupin dying.. which is quite good, because it means their still alive in my mind!<p>

Anyway, please review!


	32. Too Close For Comfort

**a/n Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One<strong>

Too Close For Comfort

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><p>I stared miserably into the forlorn face of the woman sitting opposite me on the sofa, and tried desperately to think of something else to say. When Molly had informed me a few days before that Tonks was suffering from what she termed as "survivors guilt" in the wake of what had happened at the ministry, saying that she thought it would be a good idea for me to have a talk with her, I had been less than enthusiastic about the idea. Tonks and I had not seen each other at all since she had come out of hospital, and I didn't really know what I <em>could<em> say to her that would be of any consolation, given that I was still struggling to come to terms with the situation myself. Nevertheless, knowing that it would be incredibly selfish just to refuse, I had consented to be there when Molly invited Tonks round, and we were now sitting in quite an uncomfortable silence on the sofa.

I had been prepared to relive a few unpleasant memories. What I had not prepared myself for was her drastically changed appearance. Molly _had_ warned me that the shock had caused Tonks to have problems metamorphosing, but it wasn't the lack of pink hair that had upset me, rather the way she looked so ill and drawn, with dark shadows under her eyes, her cheeks quite as pale as Sirius's had been after months spent inside Grimmauld Place. I had very rarely seen her even remotely upset before, and I was finding this drastic, heart-wrenching display of grief almost as distressing to witness as Sirius's death had been in the first place.

She had haltingly admitted to me that she couldn't help but blame herself for what had happened, but I was finding it very difficult to give her a reasoned argument that would make her see things differently._ I_ didn't blame her in the slightest, of course, but I was well aware that she was being inwardly destroyed by the thought that if she had acted just a little differently during the fight, then Sirius would still be alive. If only she had managed to finish Bellatrix quicker. If only she had dodged the spell that had brought her down. If only she had been able to stop herself from falling down the stone steps and knocking herself out of the fight completely. It wasn't that simple, of course. It never was, but as I had been plagued with these types of thoughts for most of my life, and had never really been able to find a rational argument that eradicated them completely, I was struggling greatly to think of anything that could bring solace to Tonks.

"It wasn't your fault," I repeated at last, wanting, at least, to impress this crucial point upon her as much as I could. "Please don't think for a moment that it was!"

She just nodded vaguely, as if she wasn't really listening, and I suddenly had a strong suspicion that there was something else troubling her. After a few more minutes of strained silence, she spoke.

"Remus... you know the veil?"

The veil. The rippling black curtain. The powerless feeling that had spread through me as I watched Sirius falling slowly through it. The sudden, painful stab to my chest must have been evident on my face, because Tonks immediately stopped speaking, looking horrified.

"Never mind-" she murmured.

"No!" I said at once. I was there to help her, after all. I couldn't just let an unpleasant memory stand in the way of that. "Go on, it's fine honestly!" I insisted, reaching out and touching her hand tentatively. It was much warmer than the last time I had held it, and I felt encouraged by the comforting touch as she squeezed my fingers, before eyeing me a little worriedly and continuing.

"It's just.. I was thinking.. because of what it is-" her eyes looked suddenly haunted. "Do you think _Sirius_ will... Does it mean that he won't-"

She was having trouble articulating the sentence, but I suddenly understood what she was getting at, realised what she was so worried about, and why the thought of being even very slightly to blame for Sirius's demise would be such an unbearable burden to live with. Tonks must be worried that as Sirius had fallen through the veil, the unidentifiable mass of twisted, tortured souls existing in the no mans land between life and death, he too might have to endure the same fate. I breathed an inward sigh of relief at the thought that I could, at last, give her one solid peace of reassurance.

"He'll be at peace." I said quietly, and I told her what Dumbledore had assured me a few weeks before, during our only meeting since Sirius's death. I had wanted clarification on this matter myself, and thankfully, as usual, my old headmaster had the answers. "Dumbledore told me. No soul in itself has the power to maim another. It is the actions of one's own mind and body that can harm the soul. Those in the veil are maimed, pulled apart by evil or else too reluctant to pass on naturally, but although they can drag someone from the living world, they can't actually condemn them to that same fate."

I hadn't been looking at her as I said this, too intent on remembering exactly what I had learnt, but when I looked up at her again there were tears pouring silently down her cheeks and I felt horrified, scared that I had been insensitive by speaking so ruthlessly.

"It's ok," she managed to get out, as I, not being able to think of anything else to do, moved closer and put my arms round her in an attempt to comfort her. "I think I was most worried about that. I wouldn't be able to bear it if- if he was... you know."

It was odd, holding her as she buried her face in my shoulder. We had not had very much physical contact before. Sirius had always been quite affectionate with her, (strangely enough, considering how unaffectionate he had been with almost everyone else in the Order) and I had always watched a little enviously whenever he gave her a spontaneous hug goodbye, or put a teasing arm round her shoulders, feeling too awkward to be so demonstrative myself. Having Tonks sob uncontrollably on my shoulder was certainly not the way I would have preferred to breach that particular barrier, yet as I held her tighter, I felt that emotion stir in my chest again, the emotion that I had felt many a time before Sirius had died, but which had since been overcome by grief at his passing.

"I really miss him," she finished in a tiny voice, as she dried her eyes on her sleeve.

"I know," I said, a lump now swelling in my throat. "So do I."

Not much more was said between us that evening and she departed quite quickly once she had dried her tears, but we saw each other regularly in the weeks that followed. She was often at the Burrow, which was now the unofficial headquarters for the Order until we found out if Sirius had successfully managed to pass on everything he had owned to Harry. The last thing we wanted was Bellatrix inheriting the house, but in spite of that worry, I was relieved that we did not have to return to the cold, deserted rooms, that only reminded me of Sirius roaming them just weeks before, lonely, isolated and withdrawn.

Tonks did seem to be getting better each time I saw her, the colour gradually returning to her cheeks and a brighter look developing in her eyes, even if her vibrant appearance had not yet made a full recovery.

"It comes and goes," she shrugged one afternoon, after Molly had asked her if there was any improvement. "I can still do it sometimes if I really make an effort, but..." She sighed and I exchanged a worried glance with Molly over the table, concerned about her apparent despondency, but Tonks next words sounded a little more heartened and gave me hope that she was feeling quite a bit better. "I'm sure I'll get it back soon! I hope so, anyway, it's pretty annoying for work. I miss being the only pink haired auror around!" She gave me a weak smile, which I returned, grateful that she was now able to make light of the situation.

"You do seem to have helped her tremendously," Molly said approvingly to me, once Tonks had gone home. I suddenly felt suspicious. I highly doubted that it was coincidence that Tonks and I seemed to be the only members of the Order who she regularly invited to stay for tea, or for dinner, and these thoughts were further confirmed by the knowing look in Molly's eyes as she smiled at me, but I did not let her elaborate on the subject and changed the topic of conversation immediately. The one and only person I had ever talked to about my feelings for Tonks was now dead, and somehow, without him, any slight shreds of thought I had had about ever acting on those feelings had been completely eradicated as well.

**oOo**

A couple of days later, I met with Dumbledore. I had finally managed to find out exactly where the werewolves were basing themselves, and bore the rather unwelcome news that Greyback, their leader, had already convinced a great many of them to come and report to him and do his bidding. In fact, as no one dared to disagree with him openly, he seemed to be rounding up followers by the day.

Dumbledore listened intently, looking grave.

"Very well," he said, once I had finished my report. "You have done well to track them down, Remus, by the sound of things." He paused and as I looked into his blue eyes, I knew exactly what was coming, knew what my next course of action must now be.

"So now I need to convince some of them to leave Greyback?" I said, trying to sound business-like and efficient, but my chest constricting at the thought. I knew it was necessary work, but I did feel a great well of dread at the thought of going to live among other werewolves who, unlike me, fully embraced the possibility of infecting other human beings, who actually relished the idea of tasting human flesh. I felt almost sick at the thought of having to go back to my fully-fledged transformations, after three years of keeping them at bay.

I was determined not to let this show on my face, determined not to look weak, but Dumbledore seemed to guess my thoughts, because he looked sympathetic and sighed. "It is a heavy burden to place on someone, Remus," he said softly. "It would certainly be advantageous to have a spy among the werewolves, that I cannot deny, but-"

"I'll do it," I said, looking fiercely back at Dumbledore, before he could even finish his sentence, before he gave me any kind of let out or excuse to be a coward. "I'll go."

"You're going?" Tonks dismay was evident when I told her the next day. "But why does it have to be you?" I smiled at her humourlessly. We both knew exactly why it had to be me and I did not go into an explanation, but Tonks still looked distressed.

"It's not fair," she said bitterly, "You always get the roughest deal."

"No I don't" I said automatically. "No one gets a good deal at the moment, you know that!"

"Couldn't you have refused?" she pleaded, her eyes, currently a warm shade of brown, boring into my own. I hesitated. I probably could have done, after all. Dumbledore had seemed reluctant to automatically assign me to this task, had seemed to respect my own mental and physical well-being, and probably would have understood if I had told him that I would prefer not to do it. Why I hadn't even taken time to consider the options I wasn't sure, although I had a nagging feeling that a large part of me just wanted to bury myself in Order work and avoid Tonks before things got complicated between us again. The grief over Sirius's death had eclipsed the subject of our feelings for each other for the time being, but I knew that at some point the topic was bound to resurface again. It had been difficult enough the last time, but at least Sirius had been there to smooth out the awkward tension between us, and I wasn't even sure how I would deal with the situation if we started going down that road again. It seemed better to avoid it altogether, no matter how high the price.

"No," I said flatly. "I have to do this."

She didn't say much more about it, but when I saw her a week later, she was looking thoroughly miserable again, all signs that her metamorphosing was improving completely gone, the dark circles under her eyes apparent once more. She did not join in mine and Molly's discussion about Harry, who was arriving that night with Dumbledore, and just stared unhappily down at her cup of tea. When I started talking to Molly about my upcoming duties with the werewolves, however, she got up abruptly and left the room without so much as a backwards glance. I stared after her, thoroughly distressed.

"Go and talk to her," Molly ordered, in a gentle but firm tone of voice.

"But-" That was the last thing I wanted to do, but Molly was looking at me sternly.

"She's very upset about you going, you know. At least go and comfort her." Knowing that she would not let the matter drop until I had done as she instructed, I got up obediently and made my way into the sitting room. Tonks was standing by the window, looking miserably out into the gloom, and I thought at first that she hadn't registered my presence, but after a moment or two she spoke, her voice strained, still facing the window.

"When do you go?"

"Next week."

"When will you be back?"

"I-I don't know." She didn't say anything to that. I walked towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, and when she turned I was horrified to see that her eyes were full of tears again.

"I'll be fine," I said, knowing that I was in no position to reassure her of any such thing. I think she knew that too, for she just stared back at me blankly.

"I'll miss you," she said, suddenly moving towards me and slipping her arms around my chest, startling me with both the abrupt movement and the words. I had honestly thought that all those who cared enough to miss me were long gone, and therefore was so moved that I returned the hug. I had never experienced this kind of embrace before. It was so strong, so warm, so comforting to have someone to hold, that for what seemed like several minutes I simply could not let go. Even when I did finally loosen my hold on her, she did not pull away herself, just looked up at me with a curious expression in her brown eyes, her tears suddenly gone, her face very close to mine. Far too close, in fact, for comfort.

"Would you like some soup, dears?" Molly came in sitting room door, and as we both turned towards her, I saw a mortified expression appear on her face as she saw us standing with our arms around each other, our faces so close together that our noses were almost touching. "I'm so sorry," she said at once, going red, before hurrying back out of the room.

Tonks turned back towards me once she'd left, but I took this as my opportunity to get away. "I'd better go," I said, pushing her away a little harder than I had meant to as I took a step back. The atmosphere suddenly seemed to turn icy and Tonks looked completely bewildered.

"Remus?"

"I should go," I repeated, and Tonks spoke in tones of complete confusion. "Why? Not because of Molly? She's pretty relaxed about these things you know! Just as well really, the way Fleur acts with Bill!."

But I turned, still embarrassed, refusing to acknowledge what would have happened had Molly not walked in the door, and made for the kitchen, ignoring Tonks' renewed protests. Molly was bustling around making soup, her cheeks a little pink, and she did not look at me as I entered. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting!" she said. I couldn't help but detect a delighted ring to her voice, and knew she must have got entirely the wrong end of the stick.

"It's fine," I muttered. The last thing I wanted was to discuss this with Molly, who, I was sure, would have exactly the same view on things as Sirius had done. "I should go though."

She seemed shocked as she turned to me looking almost as upset as Tonks had been. "But Remus, Harry is arriving in just a few hours!" she protested. "He'll want to see you! You're quite welcome to stay here for the night!"

"I can't stay," I said. "I need to go and start getting things together. I'm going underground next week!"

Molly nodded reluctantly, still looking a little upset.

"Well, alright, but at least come for dinner at the weekend, for Harry's birthday?"

I hesitated. As much as I wanted to refuse, to bury what had just happened under my role in the Order, to avoid Tonks now for all I was worth, I was tempted. I had never, in all his sixteen years, been there to celebrate Harry's birthday. I consented by giving a stiff nod.

"Fantastic!" Molly beamed, all confusion at my sudden desire to depart the house thankfully forgotten. "Mad Eye's coming too, and I'll invite Tonks of course."

Whatever expression had shown on my face at those words, it must have been negative, because Molly was now looking both bemused and quite distressed. "I'm sorry," she faltered. "I thought you'd be pleased! I- I though there was something.. between you."

"Well there isn't," I said, disgusted at myself for the harshness in my voice as I said it. "There can't be. I'm sorry Molly, I really should go." And with that I made for the door, never knowing which of her many expressions was present on her face as she watched me do so.

**oOo**

Three weeks before Christmas I came back to the Burrow to report my current success – or indeed lack thereof – with the werewolves. I had spent months living among them, and had, starting with those who I believed to be the most persuadable, tried to give them a reasoned argument and suggest that following Greyback was not the only option. It was difficult, not least because I had to be subtle. All persuasion had to be done casually, without revealing that I was in fact already against Greyback and working for the Order, because if it reached his ears that there was someone in the vicinity who was in league with Dumbledore, that would be the end of all possible chances of allegiance from any of the others. It was lonely work, not only because I was treated with distinct mistrust from nearly all the werewolves, but also because I could not correspond with anyone in the Order, and after three months, the isolation coupled with the freezing temperatures had driven me back to the Burrow for a couple of days, in an attempt to regain a little bit of motivation to continue with the disheartening work.

Upon my return, very surprised to find the back door of the house slightly open, I entered into the kitchen of The Burrow to find Molly and Fleur standing facing each other, both looking disgruntled and stressed, and Tonks sitting at the table looking quite as miserable as she had done the last time I had seen her. I had hoped that she would be coming to terms with Sirius's death by now and at the sight of her stricken face, my heart turned over in my chest. A very odd expression flitted through her eyes as she met my gaze, but Molly and Fleur did not even seem to register my presence as I stepped in through the doorway.

"Eet will not fit 'err!" Fleur was saying crossly.

"Then we will adjust it." Molly was glaring into Fleur's beautiful but annoyed features, and, recognizing the expression, I knew that Fleur was unlikely to win whatever battle they were currently involved in.

"Eet cannot be adjusted!" Fleur said firmly, and Molly puffed herself up indignantly.

"I think you'll find it can! Come on, I'll show you."

I'm not sure Molly had even noticed I was there, and after she had marched Fleur upstairs, I looked enquiringly at Tonks.

"What was that about?" I asked in confusion.

"Bridesmaids dresses," she rolled her eyes. "Of all the things to be worrying about now! They've got a bit preoccupied with this wedding stuff, to be honest. Molly didn't even ask me my security question when I arrived earlier."

I gave a small laugh, hoping to lighten the atmosphere, but she did not join in, and I had no idea what else to say. We had had no contact at all since our last simultaneous visit to the Burrow. She had not come to Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations, and I had never been able to work out whether I felt relieved or sorry about that. As I hovered a little awkwardly, leaning against the kitchen cupboards, I found myself thinking back to our carefree conversations at Grimmauld Place and wondered how things could have possibly changed that much in the space of a few short months.

"How've you been?" I hazarded at last.

"Yeah, fine," she shrugged. "Same old, you know, catching Death Eaters and preventing attacks and all that."

She stood up and took her empty mug to the sink, taking her time to rinse it out and drying it by hand. I continued to hover by the work surface, very aware of her presence so close to mine, wishing I could think of something to say to her. Eventually, she broke the silence herself, turning round to face me and saying, with an unmistakable break in her voice. "I've been so worried about you!"

I was still so gratified, so pleasantly surprised that someone actually seemed to care, that I just stood there and let her throw her arms around my neck, returning the hug just as I had done before. The warmth that emanated from her in that moment began to drown out all the bitterness and ill feeling I had received from the werewolves over the past two months, and I shut my eyes for a second, wishing I could just stay there with her and never go back. It was only when I remembered that one of my reasons for going in the first place had been to avoid Tonks that I felt awkward again, and tried to pull away. Tonks drew back a little too, but she was looking at me with the very same expression that had been present on her face the last time we had seen each other. She was getting close to me again too, the same curious brightness gleaming in her eyes. But this time Molly was far too busy remonstrating with her future daughter-in-law about bridesmaids dresses to accidentally walk in on us.

**oOo**

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. Only a few seconds could have passed but it felt like an eternity, and I, stunned, tried to make sense of what had happened. Tonks meeting my eyes, bringing her face closer to my own, her lips barely grazing mine, a completely unrecognisable feeling spreading though my body before I pushed her resolutely away and stepped back, taking a deep intake of breath. She had instantly flushed a deep red and was now looking stricken as she stared at the ground.

I explained as best I could.

"It's not you," I started, despising myself for using what was, according to Sirius, the most clichéd excuse for rejecting someone, and one that he had always prided himself on never having uttered, despite the long line of girls he had turned away throughout our years at school. "Honestly," I went on, trying to sound more sincere. "It's nothing to do with you. But you must know that this-" I spread my hands vaguely. "This can't happen."

Finally, the moment I had been trying to put off for so long had come. I now had absolutely no choice but to acknowledge how Tonks felt about me, and it was time that I set things straight, told her in definite terms that she should be focusing her attentions on someone else.

"I'm too old for you, for one thing," I said, talking to her bowed head. "I have no money. And apart from anything else, I can't risk it, not with what I am. I'm not even taking the Wolfsbane potion at the moment. I'm far too dangerous to be with anyone."

I went on in this vein for a while, trying to get some kind of understanding out of her, but she just stood there, her face turning from bright red to a deathly, sickly white, barely listening, her eyes, now sparkling with tears, still fixed on the ground.

"Ok," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

And with that she made for the door.

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><p><strong>an Hopefully this chapter gives a bit of clarification on the question about them going back to acting normal after Tonks confessing her feelings. I always saw Sirius as fairly pivotal in the balance between them and wanted to mark the contrast in their reaction to each other before and after his death.**

**Also, as Remus just completely refused to acknowledge how she felt before, I just imagined them pretending it hadn't happened and becoming preoccupied in the war and the Order until the subject came up again. Obviously it'll be different now because everything's changed since Sirius died.**

**That's just my take on it, anyway. Sorry for the ramble. Not sure if that made sense but hopefully explains it a bit.**

**Please review :) **


	33. Age-Old Arguments

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two<strong>

Age-Old Arguments

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><p>Celestina Warbeck's warbling tones echoed through the Weasley's sitting room, drowning out the gentle hum of voices as I stared morosely into the fire, preoccupied with my thoughts of Tonks. I felt terribly guilty, thinking of her pale, stricken face as she'd watched me reject her advances just a few weeks before, but what could I possibly do about it? How could I burden my troubles on a young, carefree witch who still had so much to live for and so much ahead of her, one who was so bright, so talented.<p>

So beautiful. I could still picture her laughing, as she had done during my first ever conversation with her and Sirius. Her heart shaped face lit up with fun. Her mane of hair, at that time dark and tinged with blue and pink, cascading down her back. Her supple figure sprawling into my arms as she tripped over yet another relic at Sirius's house. Her soft lips which had brushed against mine only three weeks before, which had trembled with suppressed emotion as I refused to acknowledge her feelings.

_She doesn't know what she wants_, I told myself sternly, as I always did when my mind started showing signs of weakening my resolve not to let anything happen between us. _She's too young to know_.

_James knew what he wanted_, I heard the other half of my mind argue back. Six years of love he had held for Lily before she eventually agreed to go out with him, and he hadn't been wrong to persist, even if at the time we had thought he was just getting a bit carried away. But then that was James. James's life had followed different rules to mine. In fact, most people's lives did.

As I thought of his father, I dimly heard Harry's voice interrupt my thoughts and started paying attention to what he was saying. Something about Snape offering to help Malfoy, and Dumbledore's continued trust in Snape. Harry's scepticism. Arthur's gentle but stern responses. I had heard the argument before, of course, from so many different people, even from Order members. Why should they trust an ex-death eater with so much information about Voldemort's principle opposition? How did they know that Snape could be trusted? What if he was actually working for his old master?

"But how do we know?" The frustration in Harry's voice was evident as he echoed the long-parroted argument.

"It's not our business to know." The words left my mouth almost automatically and as I turned to face Harry, I thought I saw a spark of resentment flare in his eyes. So like James, in this respect at least, I knew that any defence of Snape was not going to be appreciated and that Harry simply wanted someone to agree with him that Snape was a traitor and we were all wrong to be putting our trust in him.

But I thought back to the conversation I had heard between McGonagall and Dumbledore, so many years before. The conversation from which I had learned that it was Snape who had warned Dumbledore about a spy amongst my group of friends. I could still remember the definite tone to Dumledore's voice as he insisted that Snape could be trusted. And hadn't he been right? If James had heeded the advice that had been spawned by Snape's information, things may have turned out so differently. Peter may have been discovered as a spy. Sirius may not have been imprisoned for all those years and may still be alive. And the boy - man - who sat in front of me, who had endured so much pain and suffering because that information had been disregarded, may even now be moaning about his greasy-haired potions professor to his own parents, while sat in front of his own fire in Godric's Hollow. I could almost picture the scene; James' heartfelt enthusiasm for his son's dislike contrasting with Lily's quiet but secretly amused disapproval...

It may have been quite a weak argument, but I held onto it because I myself had doubted Dumbledore throughout those past years, been entirely baffled by his trust in Snape, wondered why he had sent Harry to live with the awful Dursleys, even resented him for not allowing me to be part of my best friends' son's life for so long. Yet I also knew that mistrust in Dumbledore, our greatest leader and hope, would only make matters worse, and it was with this in mind that I defended Snape to Harry until he accepted defeat and changed the subject.

**oOo**

Talking to Harry did take my mind of Tonks for a while, and I felt sorrier than ever that I had not been able to write to him, because I suspected that he was feeling the loss of Sirius very acutely now that he was back at school. But when he and Ron left for bed, my thoughts turned once more to the young witch, in her little house all by herself. Molly was quick to remind me of this the next day, pointedly remarking that Tonks was spending Christmas alone, and on Boxing Day, while the rest of the family were lazing by the warm fire or else in their rooms, she cornered me in the kitchen and spoke to me sternly.

"For heavens sake Remus, this is getting ridiculous! Go and talk to her at the very least. She's completely miserable."

"Talking to her won't help," I said hollowly, unable to meet Molly's penetrating brown eyes because of the guilt that welled up in me when I did. "She's already heard what I have to say. She'll be much better off if I leave her alone."

There was a silence as Molly eyed me in frustration, one that stretched into heavy awkwardness, but I was not willing to discuss the subject further and continued to avoid looking at her. Molly, however, had different ideas. "Have you seen Tonks' patronus recently, Remus?" she asked suddenly.

I felt irrationally angry at this, thinking that it was quite a manipulative tactic for her to use. I hadn't seen it of course, not having had a chance to correspond with anyone recently at all, but Harry had told me only the day before that it had changed its form, and although I didn't know what form it now took, I did know, deep down, the reason for the change. Not that I was going to admit it. "No, I haven't," I said curtly. "You know I haven't been in touch with anyone, and that's probably for the best, especially for Tonks. She just needs to get some perspective and realise that this can't happen."

"And why not?" If I hadn't been so tired and wound up I probably would have found it amusing, seeing Molly put her hands on her hips and address me in the same tone of voice she used for her children. But I was in no mood to laugh about anything.

"You know why not," I snapped, far more vehemently than I had intended, but Molly did not look in the least bit offended. No doubt raising six teenage boys had immunised her to most retorts and angry outbursts. If anything, her expression was one of intense pity, but in that moment that only made me all the more furious. I didn't need pity. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want advice. I just wanted to be left alone.

"Everyone always thinks the same thing, that I can just choose to forget what I am and what that means. Everyone just assumes that I can lead a perfectly normal life, when it's not actually that simple! Do you really think I'm doing this on purpose... that I wanted to make Tonks unhap-"

I broke off as a slight, red headed figure appeared in the kitchen doorway, eating a piece of fruit cake and bearing an extremely disgruntled expression on her face. Ginny did not look too shocked to see me talking angrily at her mother, but her appearance instantly halted my outburst and I was suddenly overcome with shame. I so rarely got angry, but it did seem to be happening more often recently, and I knew that Molly was only trying to help. After all her kind hospitality, she of all people did not deserve to have me raging at her.

"Everything alright dear?" Molly enquired, as Ginny sat down at the table in a huff and launched into a rant of her own. "Fleur's trying out all this stupid, over-the-top stuff with her hair and it's driving me mad and I tried to go into Fred and George's room to get away from all the hairspray but they just slammed the door in my face! And Ron's being an absolute prick-"

"Language!" her mother reprimanded sternly, but was prevented from saying anything else as a loud bang issued from the bedroom above the kitchen, and I surmised that Fred and George's refusal to speak to their sister was probably due to some experimenting with a new explosive.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Molly said furiously. "How many times have I told them, not in the house!" She marched upstairs and left Ginny and I sitting alone in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry I've made your bedroom arrangements difficult," I said to her, a little awkwardly, but Ginny disregarded this. Still chewing her cake, she was looking at me with a thoughtful but also sympathetic expression on her face.

"Tonks wasn't alone at Christmas, you know," she said, after swallowing her mouthful. "She sent me an owl this morning. She decided to have Christmas dinner with her parents after all and then she went home and made a cake. It's pretty good," she added, holding up the half eaten piece in her hand and smiling at me appeasingly. I smiled back wanly. It sounded like a very sedate Christmas evening for someone as vibrant as Tonks, but I was grateful for Ginny's words nonetheless, and I dared hope that Tonks wasn't perhaps as unhappy I'd been made to believe.

"So she's ok?" I said quietly.

Ginny shrugged. "Well she's definitely not as bad as mum seems to think she is. Honestly, the way she talks you'd think Tonks was suicidal!" Ginny rolled her eyes with a sigh but then looked a little more serious. "But... she is pretty down, you know... I think everything's just been a bit much for her since what happened at the ministry."

There wasn't even a hint of accusation in Ginny's voice, and I felt relieved, finally, to be talking to someone - even if it was a fifteen-year-old girl - who wasn't judging me or offering advice on what I should be doing, just presenting me with simple facts and a kind word. Although I had no idea how much Ginny knew about mine and Tonks relationship as it currently stood, I did know that she and Tonks had become very close in the last year, and I judged by her expression that she had been told something. I suddenly felt an acute need to explain myself to her, more than I had to anyone else, to justify why I was inadvertently making her friend so unhappy.

"I never meant to make her unhappy," I said abruptly. "It's just not as simple as everyone else seems to think. I have to think about what's best for her in the long run."

"I know," Ginny said simply. "Tonks told me that one of the things she liked about you in the first place was that you thought about other people before yourself." I raised my eyebrows, feeling both astounded and a little embarrassed, but Ginny pressed on unblushingly. "And also because you were always kind to her and you always respected her. You didn't treat her like a child even though she was one of the youngest in the Order."

I had a feeling that, with six older brothers to contend with, not being treated like a child was an issue very close to Ginny's heart, one that, by the sounds of it, she and Tonks had bonded over. Tonks may well be rethinking all of her nice comments after my speech in the kitchen a few weeks before, I thought ruefully, but I was warmed by the second hand compliments none the less.

Ginny now had a curious expression on her face, one that wasn't dissimilar from the look Molly frequently gave me these days, a look which clearly said "why are you doing this to yourself?" And as she opened her mouth, I braced myself for the comments I always dreaded hearing, the argument that I should lead a normal life, that I should be in a relationship, that my condition shouldn't stand in the way of any happiness, and resolved that I would not fly off the handle again, but rather listen calmly to the girl who had just brought a small shred of comfort to my day. But instead of berating me, Ginny just shrugged and said, "you could do worse you know. She's makes good cake!"

I couldn't help but laugh slightly at this. "Well that is one argument I haven't heard yet," I conceded, suddenly seeing Ginny in entirely new light. Other than teaching her for a year, during which she had been incredibly quiet and unassuming, no doubt due to the trauma of the year before, I had never had much contact with her at all. I had to admit I had only just noticed the mature young witch that was usually hidden behind her brothers' teasing and her label as "the youngest Weasley." I reflected sadly that she was yet another person who had had no choice but to grow up much too fast, given the difficult times we were all living in, and it was this thought more than anything that completely calmed me down, intensifying my guilt that I had lost my temper with Molly. When she returned to the room looking harassed, I immediately turned to her apologetically and Ginny, mumbling something about Fleur and hairspray and where she could put it, flashed me a smile and left the kitchen.

"I'm sorry I got angry," I said. "Really, I am. I do appreciate what you're saying. It's just – everyone does just assume that this kind of thing should be easy. They always have. Sirius and James were always trying to set me up with people. And even Lily would always tell me "not to be ridiculous." Everyone just thinks-" I couldn't even think of an ending to the sentence and put my head in my hands with a sigh of despair.

Molly's tone was gentle as she replied. "We think the one thing you constantly fail to see for yourself, Remus. In fact we _know_ – we don't just think - that you deserve someone as much of the rest of us do. I understand that it must be annoying to hear time and time again, but we don't just say this to pester you; we say it because we wish you could see yourself the way we see you. And because we don't want to give up hope that one day you will."

I was completely caught off guard by her caring words, having been expecting more exasperation, and was more astonished still when she pulled me into a warm and motherly hug, which was so kindly I couldn't help but return it. When we broke apart, she was looking at me without any annoyance in her face, just a despairing kind of affection. "You really don't deserve the hell you put yourself through, you know," she sighed. And, looking quite emotional, she left the kitchen, leaving me feeling confused as I absent-mindedly brushed away the crumbs her daughter had spilled on the table.

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><p>Please review :)<p> 


	34. The Fuel To The Flame

**Thanks for all the review! :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Three<strong>

The Fuel to the Flame

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><p>Even as I knocked on Tonks' red front door, I was unsure as to why I was there, or indeed what I was going to say to her. Molly's words had touched me deeply, but that didn't change the fact that I was completely unwilling to give in and burden Tonks with an older, dangerous man when I was quite sure she could have her pick of the many young, handsome aurors she worked with if she wanted to. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a girl I had liked ended up with an auror, I thought bitterly.<p>

As the door opened and her pale face appeared, I thought I saw a flash of hope pass over it. I may have been mistaken, however, because a second later she just stood in front of me, even thinner and more tired looking than the last time I'd seen her, her expression one of resigned confusion. She invited me in, gestured wordlessly to the chairs that were clustered around a glass coffee table in her living room, and then brought through a plate of cake from the kitchen.

"Help yourself," she said woodenly, sitting down on the sofa opposite me.

"Ginny told me you made a cake," I said with a smile, trying to start a conversation, any conversation, but she did not reply to this and so I took advantage of the silence to look around her living room. It was small but comfortable, elegantly decorated but with many hints at Tonks' wilder side. Bright, psychedelic posters covered the walls, and there was a plant with strange purple leaves and orange flowers in one corner. The chairs and sofa in which we were sitting were plain, made of stylish black leather, but the cushions contrasted starkly: multicoloured satin shapes covered in bright sequins. With nothing else to do I picked up the one in front of me and fiddled with the little beads, and as I did so, Tonks broke the icy silence at last.

"Remus why are you here? You made your feelings quite plain the other night and I know there's nothing more to say."

"Molly said - " I trailed off, not sure how I should end this. I wasn't sure that "Molly said I should come and speak to you," was the best thing to say, given that I was a grown man and probably should not be relying on a motherly figure to dictate his actions. My unfinished sentence certainly did not go down particularly well.

"Said what? That I was upset and needed comfort? Because I don't, and certainly not from you!" Tonks said acidly. "And if she told you I was alone at Christmas then she's wrong too. I went to my parents' house."

"Yes I know, Ginny told me," I murmured, and Tonks let out a humourless laugh. "Did she? So you were having a nice little chat about me were you? You probably think I'm a complete idiot, pouring out my heart to a fifteen-year-old girl."

"What? No of course I don't!" I protested, taken aback by her biting tone. "Ginny was just telling me about your Christmas, that's all."

Tonks merely scowled.

"Nymphadora-" Somehow the situation felt too uncomfortable for any display of familiarity, but calling her by her first name was a big mistake, and I felt even more tense as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"So we're back to Nymphadora now, are we?" she spat, glaring at me and folding her arms across her chest. "You want so much distance from me that you can't even use my preferred name?" Her voice shook suddenly as she shut her eyes tightly and, never being able to bear the sight of her crying, I got up and went to sit next to her. But Tonks turned away from me, shrugging off the hand I reached over to put on her shoulder.

"Can't you see how embarrassing this is for me?" her voice was thick. "I thought – I just assumed - that after all our working together, all that time I spent hanging out with you and Sirius...and with the way you talked to me, and looked at me... after what almost happened in the summer before Molly walked in on us... that you felt the same way. And now I feel so _stupid_."

I was well and truly out of my depth at this point. I had never had to worry about comforting someone I had turned down before, and as Sirius had never bothered to look back on all the girls he had left trailing behind him throughout our years at Hogwarts, I couldn't even think back and use his actions as an example.

"Look," I said. "I wish that things could be different. Really, I do, but-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, you're too old, you're too dangerous. I heard you the first time." Tonks turned around and gave me a dark look through her tear filled eyes. "You know, Remus, I always thought before that you respected me. You probably think you're being tactful but you could at least tell me the truth."

"That is the truth!" I insisted, quite truly shocked this time. I knew I wasn't exactly being nice to her, but she had to know that I wasn't lying to her. But then nor was I good enough for her. I _was_ much too old for her. I _didn't_ have any money and I was going back to the werewolves the next day. Back to the cold, deserted moors to hide out and play my part as a savage, uncontrollable beast. And no woman could possibly want to be involved with an uncontrollable beast.

How it happened I don't quite know. One minute I was looking into her stricken brown eyes. The next minute her lips were on mine, warm and soft and passionate. And as her hands slipped up round the back of my neck, into my hair, I realised I was kissing her too, wrapping my arms right around her, my hands sliding softly up her slender back, suddenly unable to pull away. The unrecognisable feeling that I had experienced during our short-lived kiss in the kitchen of the Burrow returned, stronger this time, spreading through me in a way that left me completely powerless to do anything else but kiss her, furiously, hungry for more, forgetting everything else and wanted the moment to last forever.

"_So how was it?" James asked me in tones of glee, as I returned to the dormitory one morning, my absence, for once, not down to the full moon or a visit to the hospital wing. Sirius was also grinning at me jubilantly._

_"Fine," I shrugged, and James and Sirius burst out laughing._

_"That good, huh?" Sirius snorted._

_"No, I mean-" I felt my face flushing in the wake of their teasing, and for once they seemed to realise my embarrassment and stopped laughing so hard. "It was good," I finished. "It was fun."_

It had been no word of a lie. Things with Mary had always been fun. And yet, I had sometimes wondered, when I heard James talk about Lily, or Sirius about his latest girlfriend, if there should be something more, if there was ever _going_ to be something more. More intensity, more fire, more passion. And as Mary and I had broken up not long after, there had never been a chance to find out if that something would have ever grown any stronger between us. It was only now, as Tonks wrapped her arms tighter round my neck and I did absolutely nothing to stop her, just pulled her closer towards me in return, that I finally had a taste of what I had missed out on: the overwhelming feeling of insatiable hunger, the desperate longing for it to endure, so much so that it was erasing all other sensible thoughts from my mind.

It was the bite that brought me back to my senses. The tiniest movement in which, as the heat between us built, as the kiss became a little rougher, more urgent, her teeth closed, very gently, on my bottom lip. But it was enough. One bite, one accident, one slip, that was all it would take. All my resolve returned in an instant and I drew back sharply, horrified at what I had almost done.

Her reaction of hurt was instant, and I clumsily tried to explain what had just gone through my mind. That it would take one mistake at the full moon for me to poison her body and taint her life forever. That I would give anything to be able to finish what we had just started, but I couldn't take the risk. And as she listened, something did seem to click and her face softened with a sudden understanding as she eyed me incredulously.

"You really do think you're dangerous, don't you?" she breathed and as I looked confused, she went on, to clarify, "It's not because I'm not good enough?"

"How could you possibly, _possibly_ think it was because you weren't good enough?" I said helplessly, completely baffled.

She merely shrugged. "Well I know I look awful at the moment," she muttered, running her hand through her short, mousy hair. "Be enough to put anyone off."

"You don't look awful," I said instantly, which was true. Her appearance was certainly less colourful than it had been in the past, but I still felt that tug in my insides whenever I looked at her. "And anyway, I hardly think I'm in a position to judge someone else's looks," I added wryly.

Tonks looked at me witheringly, no doubt scornful of my habitual self deprecation, but then she sighed, looking very tired again. "So it really isn't me?" she said quietly.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed, still bewildered as to how she could have even though that it was, but feeling a sudden spread of relief. So Tonks had thought that I had just been trying to spare her feelings, had thought that I wasn't attracted to her, and that I was just letting her down as gently as I could. Perhaps, now that she understood, she would get over it and realise why this couldn't happen. But Tonks, like every other person before her to have this conversation with me, was now raising her eyes skyward. "You are such a fool, Remus," she breathed. "It doesn't matter what you are. Really, I couldn't care less. It doesn't change who you are inside!"

"Nymph-" I caught sight of the sparks that seemed to issue from her eyes and amended myself hastily. "Tonks look, I'm going back to the pack tomorrow. If you could see them, if you could see _me_, where I rightfully belong, you would want nothing more to do with me."

"You belong here," Tonks muttered defiantly, but I chose to ignore that comment, because I wanted nothing more than to believe her, to remain in the warmth of her living room and pretend that I could stay there forever. But I couldn't and so the awkward silence stretched on.

"Fine," she said suddenly. "Don't worry about it, honestly. Forget I ever said anything. It's fine."

"_Trust me, when a girl says that, she is anything but fine_," James had once said after an argument with Lily, in response to Peter's reassurance that Lily had told him she was "fine". I knew I should probably stay and comfort her, knew that there was probably a lot more to be said, but I couldn't face it. She had given me a ticket to leave and I was going to take it. It had been a mistake to come in the first place.

"I'm not going to give up on you, Remus," I heard Tonks say in a determined voice, as I headed for the door.

Why had I come? I berated myself furiously, as I headed back down her road, back to the Burrow where I was to spend one more night before returning to the werewolves. All I had done was make things worse, give her renewed hope. Yes, she had been upset, but she would have accepted my rejection in time if I hadn't disturbed her. And she would have found someone else soon enough, someone younger, richer, and generally more suitable. And now I had gone and stirred up her emotions again, made her long for something that I knew was completely impossible.

I did my very best not to think about what had just happened between us. I slipped surreptitiously back into the Weasleys' house and kept out of Molly's way all evening, managing to avoid her until the following morning, when I strolled into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and say my goodbyes, and where thankfully the whole family were present. She cast one doubtful glance at Ron and Fred, who were squabbling over the crunchiest bits of bacon, and I understood that she had no desire to discuss the matter in front of the least tactful members of her family. Which, of course, had been precisely my intent.

"I'm off Molly," I said, trying to sound casual but feeling desperately sad at the thought of leaving the warm, festive atmosphere at the Burrow and returning to the werewolf slums. She seemed to share this feeling, because as she turned away from the frying pan her eyes were very downcast.

"Very well dear, are you sure you can't stay a couple more nights?"

"They will be suspicious enough as it is, I'm afraid," I said, and Molly nodded sadly and embraced me, waving away my heartfelt thanks for her hospitality. She loved having guests in the house, I knew, and my departure was no doubt reminding her that a further five of her current household would be returning to school and work in a few days.

The others got up to say their goodbyes and I determinedly kept the smile fixed to my face, because I knew that if I betrayed the slightest sign of weakness their increased sympathy would make it impossible for me to walk out the door.

"Please be safe, all of you," I said, turning to Harry and feeling surprised but extremely gratified when he dispensed with our usual formal handshake and gave me a brief but warm hug. Ginny, standing next to him, did the same.

"And the same to you Remus," Molly said softly from behind me. "You're safety is important as well, you know!"

It was all very well saying that, I thought ruefully, as I reached the bounds of the protective charms around the Burrow and prepared to disapparate. But I had a whole pack of angry and resentful werewolves to contend with.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	35. One Last Dance With Wolves

**a/n Thought it was time this story had a chapter with a bit more action.. we never really see or hear anything about Remus's time as a spy so here is a small insight :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four<strong>

One Last dance with Wolves

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><p>I didn't like being shunned and ostracised, but even I could not resent anyone who had come across Fenrir Greyback for their attitude towards werewolves. He was vicious, malevolent and quite frankly the most repulsive individual I had ever had the misfortune of dealing with. I detested him, and I was pretty sure he knew that only too well.<p>

I had seen Dumbledore just a few days before Christmas, and confessed that I didn't think there was anything more that I could say or do to convince even the weakest of the werewolves to resist the majority opinion. I had been very careful when choosing who to present my arguments too, knowing that trying them with any members of Greyback's inner circle would be pointless, but even those I deemed the most persuadable seemed to be too afraid of Greyback's vengeance to risk offending him, and so even if they may have felt inclined to listen and agree with what I had to say, they did not dare confess it.

It seemed I had run out of options. All except one. One that was undeniably risky, because it meant going back on everything I had been trying to say to the werewolves for the last four months, but one that Dumbledore seemed to think would have a small shot at working, if I was prepared to try. And I was, given that I felt terrible about letting him down in the first place, and was now more keen than ever to avoid the situation with Tonks entirely. I had, therefore, on returning to the pack after Christmas, adopted the role of a double agent, pretending that I was sick of being shunned by wizards and had finally realised that following Voldemort was my only chance to have a better life. The plan was that this way, at the very least, they may include me a little more in their discussions and I would be able to glean some information about Voldemort's movements and his plans where the werewolves were concerned, which would help the Order's defensive strategy.

It was not working brilliantly. My change of heart had been accepted with a surprising lack of suspicion by many of the younger members of the group. I supposed that my story must have seemed quite plausible, given that werewolves were now being treated with more dislike and animosity than ever before by most of the wizarding population, and eventually my gradual acceptance in their midst had brought me face to face with the one individual I had hoped never to see again, whose name had cast fear into my heart from the second my father had consented to give it to me all those years before. Fenrir Greyback.

Greyback had, predictably, been far more suspicious of my actions than most of the others, and I was still struggling to find out much useful information at all. He must, however, have been fooled to a certain extent, for I was still alive and living among the werewolves, which would definitely not be the case had he been certain of my deception. I had a feeling he was reserving judgement on me for the time being, and I was surprised. I had been sure that the second he found out about my integration within the group, the game would be up, not only because of his unpleasant history with my family, but because I was convinced he would know, from Voldemort, that I was a member of the Order, and that those I loved most had been stripped from my life by his master, thus deducing that I could not possibly be prepared to ally myself with him. Dumbledore, of course, had had what was turning out to be a more accurate prediction on the matter.

"Voldermort does not understand that type of loyalty," he had said heavily, when I had expressed my doubts that Greyback would accept my story without question. "He has no concept of avenging those we love, or fighting for those we have lost, no idea of what it means to despise those people who have cruelly taken our loved ones from us, for he himself has never loved anyone. Voldemort comprehends only power, and the selfish desire to preserve one's own life, and this will almost certainly be mirrored in his subordinates."

"Do not misunderstand me," Dumbledore had finished, eyeing me intently. "I am not for a second claiming that this will be easy work, Remus. But your chance of success in this mission relies on two of Voldemort's very greatest weaknesses. His greatest fear is death, and because he believes that he alone has the power to prevent his death, he trusts no one and operates alone. He is therefore unlikely to have even shared the information he has procured on the Order with Greyback, and even if he has, I doubt he will be suspicious of the apparent desire to switch sides in order to save your own skin, for it is the sentiment he understands best."

And so, with these dark words as my only inspiration that what I was doing wasn't entirely fruitless, I kept up my pretence. I did not see or make contact with any of the Order in the months that followed Christmas. I joined in the spiteful conversations on wizards and their ways, and even participated in the laughter when a member came back and reported that he had tasted human flesh, as sickened as I felt to join in. I did, however, manage to avoid causing anyone harm, or participating in any of their organised kills, for nearly four whole months after my return. The pack did not have the management of either the Order or Voldemort's Death Eaters, and so they attacked completely at random, proudly bringing their news back to Greyback, and there were so many werewolves who came from far and wide to report to him that my absence in these attacks went unnoticed for quite some time.

**oOo**

The pack centred themselves around Greyback's "house", a shack in the forest on the outskirts of a little wizarding hamlet. This was where they – where we – gathered to hear news, where we reported any sightings of potential new meat to Greyback and where we assembled, on the full moon, and prepared to transform. Needless to say, these were my least favourite gatherings. I hated going to the shack in general, but I forced myself there at least every week in order to keep up my appearance as a converted wizard-hating werewolf. And it was there, one gloomy evening in the last week of April, that my luck at managing to avoid being part of any brutal behaviour finally ran out.

I had head their voices from a long way off, considered turning back and then decided not to be a coward. Stepping into the shack, it was with a feeling of horror and regret at not following my first instinct to flee that I realised that they had captured a small child, who was tied with dirty fraying ropes to one of the few wooden chairs that had not been smashed up during the chaos of our group transformations.

The child was whimpering in fear; the wolves were cackling; Greyback jeering, and then, sheer delight on his face, he turned as he heard me enter behind him.

"Just in time," he whispered, and I saw the three others who were present exchange gleeful looks. "Well, _Loopy_, I think we will reserve this honor specially for you." He stood aside and looked at me expectantly.

So this was it. Finally, my test had come. This was the moment where, in order to prove my worth to these foul beings, I was expected to maul this innocent child to death, not as a mindless monster, but as a conscious and moral human being. And I was supposed to relish every pitiful cry, cherish each agonised squeal and embrace the realisation that I deserved human flesh just like the rest of my _equals_.

_There was no way in hell_, was my immediate thought, and hell would have been highly preferable to where I was right at that minute.

Greyback's yellow eyes flicked lazily over my face and he looked smug. Perhaps he had always known that I had never wavered in my allegiances, knew full well that I was not about to maim an innocent boy. Dumbledore must have known it would come to this, I thought bitterly. He must have suspected that I would at some point have to make a sacrifice to prove my worth. But as I stepped closer towards the pitiful figure of the child in front of me, his eyes, full of terror and dismay, locked with my own. He could be no older than five years old, I realised, and I recalled, in a split second, the terror of the night I was bitten and how I had suffered almost every day since because of it.

I heard Tonks' voice, unusually shrill and very emotional. "_It doesn't change who you are inside."_

There were countless moments in my past to feel ashamed of, numerous times where I wished I had acted differently, many regrets. But I had never considered myself a murderer. When I first joined the Order, at just eighteen years of age, and realised that, in order to survive, I may at some point have to kill, I had made a promise to myself that whatever happened I would never be guilty of taking someone's life if they had done nothing to try and harm me or those I loved.

Then, three years ago, realising how thankful I was that Harry had stepped in and prevented me and Sirius from turning our wands on our former best friend, I had amended this internal vow, swearing that I would never be guilty of taking _anyone_'s life, innocent or not, unless there truly was no other option. And now, spy though I was, I was not about to break that promise.

"Well?" Greyback's hiss from behind me held a potential death sentence, but I had made up my mind. I reacted fast, magically slicing the ropes that bound the child and grabbing him from the chair. The four men immediately tried to close in on me, but blasting them out of the way, I ran, the child in my arms. I was far more accomplished at duelling than the werewolves, who tended to use brute strength, but it was still four against one. Throwing curses over my shoulder, I managed to halt them temporarily, and was able to put a bit of distance between us and buy the child some time. Finally, on the edge of the little hamlet, I slowed, panting heavily, and heard with great alarm that the others were not far behind.

"Run," I gasped to him, indicating a small cottage where I knew an old wizarding couple lived. They were eccentric but kindly, and would definitely help him, if I could just buy him time to get there. He set off as fast as his small legs would carry him, and I turned to face the others, to stop them from following. Greyback reached me first, dodged the curse I sent at him and in one vicious swipe with his arm, sent me flying to the ground, knocking the wind out of me completely.

"Leave the child," Greyback snarled, as one of the other werewolves made to go after him, and he turned back at once. To my intense relief I saw the child reach the door of the cottage as they closed in on me, and knew that I had at least kept him safe for that day. But as I lay there, still struggling to draw breath, my vision was blocked my Greyback's bulk as he knelt down, crushing my wand arm beneath him. "I knew it," he spat, as the other three pinned down my other limbs. "Dumbledore's puppet. Pretending to be one of us. Some were fooled. But you stink of human too much for me to have ever believed you."

I struggled ineffectually as Greyback lowered his hand, and his sharpened nails that so resembled claws slipped through the light cotton of my shirt with absurd ease, deep into my flesh, and ripped a large chunk out of my side. I felt a gush of warm blood and stars blotted my eyelids as I tried to block out the pain. As Greyback repeated the action, I struggled even more, trying desperately to throw everyone off, but it was hopeless and as a fresh wave of blood soaked my ripped shirt I felt the nausea wash over me. At least, I thought, as my vision clouded and my head pounded, I had tried to save a life before I died.

Greyback was cackling softly. "Thirty years," he whispered. "Thirty years since I first sank my teeth into your youthful skin Lupin, and look where we are once more. Your flesh isn't quite as tender as it once was, I admit, but I won't complain. If only your father were still alive to feel the final force of my revenge."

It was the mention of my father that renewed my determination. My father hadn't accepted defeat, but had fought until the very last second of his life. I had seen proof of it, time after time, when I returned to my parents' run down house in my long years as an outcast to use it as a safe base for my transformations. And so as Greyback lowered his teeth towards my bleeding side, and the werewolf on my other side slackened his hold as he watched gleefully, I jerked my left arm free. My fist collided with Greyback's head with a fair amount of force, and taking advantage of his temporary confusion, I wrenched my wand arm free as well and kicked out with one of my legs. Now able to use magic, and free of two of my restrainers, I slashed the air. The other two loosened their grip as well, and I took my chance before I lost consciousness completely, and disapparated.

I reappeared, seconds later, in the fields outside the Burrow, managed to raise my wand and gather my thoughts enough to conjure a message for help before everything went black.

**oOo**

Shouts. Thudding footsteps that reverberated through the moist ground. Panicked voices. Pairs of hands lifting me onto a floating stretcher. Then darkness again.

Light beat down on my closed eyelids and with great difficulty I finally managed to force them open. Tonks' stricken face was staring down at me and Molly was knelt beside me, speaking in tones of great concern as she assessed the wound on my side. "They look like claw wounds rather than bites," she was saying. "But the spells I know aren't working. I'm not sure what else I can do."

Bill was also looking worried. "What happened?" he said urgently, seeing that my eyes were open.

I could feel my mouth making movements and hear sounds issuing from it. I had no idea if what I was saying made any sense at all, but Molly, Bill and Tonks seem to understand something.

"I'll send word to McGonagall," Bill said, jumping up. "Dumbledore's away but he will need to be informed as soon as he returns. And she may be able to send someone to help with the wound."

I had no idea how much time had passed, but I had been transferred to Fred and George's room and was at last fully conscious and attempting to talk to Tonks, who had insisted on staying with me, when a cold voice was heard from the kitchen below.

I groaned, recognizing the emotionless tones immediately. For all I had told Harry about my indifference towards him, I certainly never rejoiced at the idea of being in his presence. Tonks looked equally displeased but said, "He'll help you. He knows loads about cursed wounds."

Severus Snape, to give him his due, did indeed know what he was doing, and wasted no time. Within seconds my flesh was sewing itself back together, the wounds tightly bound in a single red scar, the mangled skin now simply a little tender and raw, and the blood neatly siphoned off the surrounding sheets.

I lay there, already feeling a good deal of relief from the pain, as Snape looked down at me without pity. "What happened Lupin?"

Unable to look him in the eye, and wishing heartily that Tonks was not there, I recounted what had happened, how I hadn't been able to go through with the murder of a child, how I had tried to save him, how Greyback had inflicted the wound on my side.

When I finally managed to look at Snape's face, it was wearing a very cold, scornful expression. "And I suppose it did not occur to you that your task was to be accepted by the opposition?" he sneered. "That your rightful course of action in that situation would have been to do as instructed and win over Greyback's confidence?"

"Is that what you do Snape?" Tonks spat at him from beside me. "Commit murder and torture and unspeakable crimes and tell yourself it's fine just because you're doing it to cover up who you're actually working for?"

Snape regarded her coldly. "It may have escaped your notice, _Nymphadora_, but covering up who you're working for is _exactly_ what the role of a spy entails. And, regrettable as it is, sometimes sacrifices must be made if people are not to discover where our true allegiances lie."

"Tonks just leave it," I muttered to her, as I sensed her lividness increase beside me.

"You've done your job so get out!" she snarled at Snape. "Just because you can murder in cold blood and not feel any remorse. Maybe some of us have more of a conscience."

"How touching," Snape murmured softly. "Sticking up for your mate. Even if he doesn't want you."

In some respects, Tonks had very thick skin. I had in the past seen insults - even Snape's - bounce off her like water off a duck's back, but he had just touched a nerve that had been open and raw for several months now, and Tonks instantly went white and turned away. She didn't see me open my mouth to protest, and Snape, looking satisfied, interrupted me. "I haven't got time to listen to you pour out your entire heart, I'm afraid Lupin, I came to address the injury and now I must get back to school. Some of us still have a job to do, you know." I glared at him as he pulled a small bottle out from his robes. "Apply this to the wound twice a day," he snapped curtly, and turned on his heel and left.

I looked towards Tonks. I couldn't see her face, but judging by her shaking shoulders, I guessed that there were tears running down her cheeks.

"Tonks?" She did not reply, but I heard a muffled sniff. I reached out a hand and touched her arm,

"It's not true what he said about you," I said, after a very long, awkward pause. "You know it's not. But he is right about everything else."

"He's not right," Tonks snapped irritably. "You know he's not."

"I should have just got on with it and stuck to my role." I said stubbornly. "I was just weak."

Tonks finally whipped around, glaring at me furiously. "You think that's weak? You think standing up to four werewolves and rescuing a child is weak? For god's sake Remus! Are you ever going to acknowledge that-" she broke off as the door was pushed open and Dumbledore appeared. Colour flooded back into Tonks' pale cheeks instantly.

"Sorry Professor Dumbledore," she said.

"No need to apologize Nymphadora," he smiled at her. "In fact, it sounds as if you are giving Remus some good, sound advice."

Tonks blushed even more, getting up and making for the door.

"I'll just go," she murmured.

"You are quite welcome to stay here," Dumbledore said gently. "But, as you are up, perhaps you might go and fetch yourself and Remus some hot chocolate? Molly has made a full jug of it downstairs and I feel that it would be most welcome for both of you in the current situation."

Tonks disappeared without a word and I looked guiltily at Dumbledore.

"I thought you were away!"

"I returned tonight!" Dumbledore said briskly. "Indeed I had just returned when Minerva received Bill's message, but I had an unexpected meeting with Harry that I could not delay, hence why I am a little late."

I opened my mouth to ask questions but he shook his head. "Not important for now Remus. It is yourself and your well being I came to talk about. Severus has just informed me how the injury came about."

I couldn't meet his blue-eyed gaze, too ashamed that I had failed in my task.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. But Dumbledore sounded incredulous as he replied. "Why are you sorry Remus? If anything, your actions tonight sounded quite heroic, even when summed up in a few fairly disparaging sentences by Severus Snape."

"Snape.. reminded me," I muttered, still not meeting his gaze, "he reminded me that my job was a spy, that I shouldn't have given myself away."

Even though I was not looking at him, I could almost feel his blue eyes boring into me as he replied.

"There are times, of course, when unfortunately sacrifices must indeed be made, for the greater good." I could have sworn that I heard an emotional break in his voice as he said these words, but when I finally looked up at him he was looking as serene and composed as ever. "And then there are other times," he went on. "Times when the best and most noble thing to do is to stand up for what we believe in. Indeed, you once sat in front of me in the Great Hall as I told each of my pupils to remain true to themselves in the face of Voldemort's spreading domination. What you did tonight, therefore, was exactly what I asked of you, albeit many years ago, and you have absolutely no reason to feel shame in your actions."

"I failed," I said stubbornly. Dumbledore sighed, now sounding quite impatient.

"I currently have two students at my school who, their head of house informs me, are stricken with grief, unable to work, smile or function as normal teenagers should because their little brother was killed by a werewolf barely a week ago. I assume you are aware of this?"

I nodded. I had not been witness to this particular act, but I had heard some of them talking gleefully about it afterwards. Daniel Montgomery had been five years old – just like the unnamed little boy I had saved earlier that day - and had been mauled to death by Greyback himself.

"By refusing to bend to their will, by saving this child tonight, you not only preserved an innocent life, you may also have saved many friends and relatives a lifetime of grief and sorrow. You may even, if this story is retold, have given more people the courage to fight as you did. And that, Remus, can hardly be counted as a failure."

I knew that what he was saying was true. I also knew that even if I were given the chance to repeat today's events, I would never be able to harm the boy who had sat innocently before me. But Snape's goading had finally got to me again. Snape had made me feel weak, and pathetic, and sentimental. And sentiment wasn't going to win me any battles.

"But what if more people die now because we no longer have a spy among the werewolves," I burst out. "That's what Snape was saying. Snape wouldn't have blown his cover like I did. He would have found a way to stay a spy, maybe even without murdering innocent children."

"I wonder," Dumbledore chided severely, now with a distinct hint of irony in his voice, "what Mr Potter and Mr Black would be thinking right now if they knew that one of their dearest friends was expressing a regret that he had not acted as Severus Snape would have done."

I had no retort to this, because I knew exactly how they would both react and it was by picturing their furious and disbelieving faces in my mind that I at last accepted the argument that I was being ridiculous.

"I couldn't have gone through with it," I admitted, looking grudgingly up into Dumbledore's blue eyes again. "I would never have been able to kill a child."

"That," Dumbledore said, "I know perfectly well. As for losing you as a spy, Remus, I think we both know that we were persevering in an increasingly uphill battle with Greyback. We still have allies infiltrated in many of Voldemort's other devoted groups of followers, and I feel your talents can be invested much more productively elsewhere from now on. Once you are fully recovered, of course."

"I want to go back," I said stubbornly. I had no idea why I was saying it, other than, perhaps, a feeling that I did not want to face the Order members after what had happened. Or maybe I just didn't want to have to face Tonks, after walking out on her all those months before. "I want to try again."

"No!" The anguished gasp had come from the doorway, where she now stood, carrying a tray with not only hot chocolate, but also a plate of biscuits and a jug of water. "You can't!" she added shakily as two pairs of eyes turned steadily to her. "They'll kill you!"

Dumbledore looked approvingly at the tray before addressing me one more time. "Well, you seem to be in good hands here, so I think I shall leave you. As for returning, there is no question of it, as Nymphadora has just pointed out. I have no desire to send you needlessly to your murder, Remus. You are an extremely valuable member of the Order and unless I'm very much mistaken," he winked at Tonks, "you would be sorely missed".

Knowing it would be pointless to protest, I decided to let the feeling of relief, that I had been wanting to let in ever since I got back to the Burrow, wash over me. Whatever dangers might lay ahead of me one thing was certain. I didn't have to go back.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	36. Those Two Words

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Five<strong>

Those Two Words

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><p>Molly instructed me to rest at the Burrow for several weeks. "You've spent four months living in a cold barn, with no decent company, no hot meals and no treatment for any of your injuries, so you'll do as I say, Remus Lupin!" she said sternly, when I suggested after three days that I start helping the Order again. I accepted defeat fairly quickly, and she consented to let me help her around the house, provided that I did not "over exert" myself and provided I had several hours rest every day. Courtesy of the ointment Snape had left me, all that now remained of my injury was a white pearly scar on my side, but it still presented me with a dull ache most of the time, that even a week later was still agonising if I was up and about for too long, and once I'd run out of protests, I began to welcome the moments she insisted that I went and rested up in the twins' bedroom.<p>

I was still frustrated at not being able to do anything particularly useful, although I had to admit that the Burrow was not a bad place to be stuck at, as it was still being used as an unofficial headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Grimmauld Place had been confirmed as safe to continue using, and was where the most major meetings were held, but many members of the Order would drop by the Burrow regularly to discuss more informal matters, no doubt preferring its warm, sociable atmosphere to the cold, deserted rooms that, I think, reminded everyone of Sirius's last days. After four months of no contact with anyone at all, it was wonderful to be in a place where Arthur or Kingsley would bring me news of what was happening at the ministry, where Bill would often pop in to tell me what was happening at Gringotts, and where Molly would, courtesy of the letters she received from Ginny and (once in a blue moon) Ron, inform me of what was happening in the teenage world of our younger friends.

Tonks became the most regular visitor of all, and during my first couple of weeks back, when I was - on Molly's instructions - still spending a lot of time in bed, she barely left my side. She insisted on sitting with me, filling me in on everything going on in the Order, at the ministry and in the outside world, bringing me food and drink in spite of my protests that I was well enough to get them myself, and generally providing warm and pleasant company that was far beyond what I felt I deserved from her, after walking out on her at Christmas.

Perhaps it was because of my injury, or because she had more pressing issues to deal with, or because she didn't want to make things awkward between us again, but she made no mention of what had happened, and although I was grateful, I also felt ashamed, knowing that I did not deserve any sort of understanding, knowing that she had every right to still be angry with me. I also knew that, for her sake, I should be distancing myself from her, that spending so much time with her was only going to cause her a lot of pain and heart ache in the end, but I couldn't do it. And so I continued to engage her in conversation whenever she came round, feeling angry with myself once she had left. I offered her sympathy and understanding if she had had a rough day at work, trying not to think about the fact that in doing so I was only adding to a bigger, more long-term problem. My heart always gave a secret leap of joy when she stayed at the Burrow for dinner, one that was almost instantly accompanied by a second reaction of self-loathing for my selfish desire to spend as much time with her as I could. I became caught up in a vicious circle of denial, guilt and utter inability to back away, and for every day my physical condition improved, my psychological state was thrown into even greater turmoil.

**oOo**

"So how long until Molly releases you back into the big wide world?" I joked to her one evening. She had been staying at the Burrow as well for the last few nights. There had been two Death Eater attacks in her road that previous weekend, and in spite of her protests that she was a qualified auror, had protective charms on her house and would be perfectly fine, it had not been enough to convince Molly. Eventually, after many repetitive conversations, Tonks had given in to her pleas that she come to the Burrow after work and stay in Ginny's room for a few nights instead of going back to her house on her own. Having her around permanently was not doing anything to ease my conflict of emotions, but I couldn't help hoping - selfishly as ever - that she would be staying for a while.

Tonks just rolled her eyes with a sigh. "I'm going to have to go home at some point," she said. "I can hardly stay here forever, can I? And what's she expecting, anyway, that things will just settle down in a few weeks time?"

I smiled grimly. She was right, of course, although I had a feeling that the dangers of living alone were not the sole reason for Molly wanting Tonks to stay at the Burrow. She, like Tonks, had not broached the dreaded subject with me again at all, but I had not missed her pointed looks whenever she mentioned Tonks in my presence, or her satisfied smile when she saw the two of us chatting. But if she was hoping that we were magically going to work things out and effectively solve both problems in one go, she was going to be waiting a while, and I decided to change the subject before any awkward topics came up with Tonks.

"Did you know that Harry and Ginny were going out?" I asked abruptly. Molly had told me earlier that day and I hadn't been particularly surprised, because even I had cottoned onto Harry's not-so-subtle glances at Ginny over the Christmas holidays.

"Yeah, she told me in her last letter," Tonks said with a small smile. "About time, really!"

"So how did that come about?" I asked. "Molly didn't get told the details, apparently."

Tonks raised her eyebrows, suddenly looking amused for the first time in a long while, and I saw the tiniest shadow of her old self flicker in her face. "I didn't know you were one for teenage gossip, Remus!"

I smiled too. "Just curious," I admitted. "I have a feeling Harry's approach to dating will be a bit different to that of his father's!"

"Which was?" Tonks asked, looking interested.

"Well, to say persistent would be an understatement," I replied. "I think Lily finally agreed to go out with him after his seventh hundred attempt!"

"Really?" Tonks sounded surprised. "I always thought it was love at first sight with them. That's the way you hear it told whenever people talk about them, anyway!"

"Yes, well, I assume most people think that "love at first sight" is a more befitting story for The Chosen One's parents than "James took seven years to realise he was being a prat!" I smiled sadly at the thought of my best friend but was warmed by the sight of Tonks giving me a proper smile. "But I can't see Harry asking Ginny hundreds of times!" I added, recalling Harry's awkward, nervous demeanor around Ginny the last time I had seen them.

"No," Tonks agreed. "By the sounds of it, he didn't even ask her once. Just kissed her in the middle of the common room after their quidditch match."

For some inexplicable reason, we both seemed to find this idea highly amusing, and as I laughed, I felt a jolt in my stomach as I heard Tonks do the same. A jolt because I had completely forgotten how that sound had the power to stir something deep in the centre of my chest. And the reason I had forgotten? Because I had not heard her laugh properly in a very, very long time. This sobering thought was enough to quench my own amusement, and when I looked back at Tonks the grin had left her face as well.

"She seems really happy, anyway." Tonks went on quietly. "Well at least one of us has managed to get what they wanted."

Her tone was suddenly unbearably bitter, as if the laughter we had just shared had not even occurred, and I stared at her sadly. It had been a while since any mention of "us" had come up and, although I knew deep down that I was in complete denial, I had been entertaining the possibility that Tonks had started to move on and accept we were never going to be anything more than friends. The thought didn't fill me with joy - quite the contrary - but it had been my excuse for letting myself get close to her again over the last few weeks, and her comment had instantly shattered the illusion I had carefully constructed in my head, filling me, once again, with guilt for what I was doing to her. She seemed to mistake my self-hatred for annoyance at her comment, for she hunched her shoulders and dropped her gaze.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I didn't mean..." She shrugged, looking so miserable that I felt as if my heart was being pulled out of my chest. How could it be because of me that someone was so desperately unhappy? It probably wasn't all down to me, I tried to tell myself. She had been telling us about her day over dinner; a long, difficult and eventually fruitless chase with Kingsley and two other aurors that had left her physically and mentally exhausted, but I still felt uncomfortably responsible as she put her face in her hands and started to sob.

"Please don't cry," I said desperately, moving closer to her and putting my arm around her, half thinking she was going to shrug it off. But she accepted my attempt at comfort, burying her face in my shoulder just as she had done all those months before, and even though I knew that, this time, the only thing that would make her feel better was the one thing that I couldn't say, I just wrapped my arms round her and held her, each sob breaking my heart a little more, each shake of her shoulders intensifying my feelings of guilt.

Eventually, she sniffed, accepted my tissue and wiped her eyes. Giving a minute, humourless laugh she said, "Some would argue I'm losing my dignity by saying this, but I think it's a bit late for that. Remus, _please. _Please just give us a chance. I know you feel the same way I do. How many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about the rest?"

"_I_ care," I said heavily. "I care about you. I want what's best for you. I can't bear seeing you this upset. But -" I knew that Tonks wouldn't appreciate hearing all my arguments again, so I did not go into them. But I had to say something. I couldn't just say nothing like I had done at Christmas, not after how kind she had been to me since my return.

I knew what I _should_ say, of course, was well aware that I should tell her that not seeing each other at all would be the best thing for her, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Her warm presence had meant everything to me over the last few weeks, and I was still too selfish to distance myself from her entirely. I wanted to be her friend, even though I knew it could be nothing more.

"_Friends_?" I had offered, all those years before, to Mary, when deep down I had wanted more. And hadn't I paid for my rejection? Hadn't I deeply regretted, in the months that had followed, not letting her into my secret? Hadn't I, many years later, felt a painful blade of envy pierce my heart when I had found out about her marrying someone else? Why was I doing it all over again, with someone I not only liked, but maybe, even-

_Because you're not doing this for you_, said a cross voice in the back of my head, refusing to even let that thought enter my mind. _You're doing what's best for her._

"You deserve so much better than me, Tonks," I said finally. "You really will see that at some point."

Tonks didn't even look hurt, or angry, or mutinous as she had done on previous occasions when I'd tried to let her down as gently as I could. Nor did she look like she'd completely accepted defeat. She just sighed deeply, looking more tired than I had ever seen her, and gave a slight shake of her head before pulling me towards her again.

Was this a new tactic? I wondered wildly, as her arms wound round my neck, her head laid on my shoulder and her short mousy hair brushed against my chin. Her voice muffled against my neck, she said a few words that I didn't quite catch - or perhaps it was just that I didn't want to acknowledge them - as, still bewildered, I breathed in the light, fragrant scent that, even in its lacklustre shade of mouse, was ever-present in her hair.

**oOo**

Tonks and I did not get a chance to have any more contact for the remainder of my recovery. The very next morning, we received word of an urgent matter up North that needed the Order's attention, and Tonks immediately took it upon herself to take charge of it. Bill also volunteered to go and the two of them were gone for over a week. I worried a lot about them, but thankfully they were able to send daily updates and it was through this that I was reassured that the two of them were alive and well, and the Death Eaters they were tracking had so far not got wind of them so they were making progress.

I was restless. My side was now almost completely better, and I was eager to get back to work, but Molly was strict. "Just rest until they get back," she instructed. "It'll only be a few more days."

I again did as she told me, grateful that at least I would be in the best place to receive news of her, but I missed Tonks' company and, with Arthur and Kingsley occupied with pressing matters at the ministry and Molly too worried about her son to talk, the Burrow instantly became a much more frustrating place to be living in.

Fleur, as worried about Bill as I was about Tonks, surprisingly became quite good company in those few days. Distracting herself with plans for the wedding, she regularly came knocking on my door to ask me what I thought of the chosen colour schemes and centre pieces. I humoured her, glad to be of assistance to someone, and one afternoon, after I had told her, very sincerely, that I thought that the golden phoenixes were a much better cake topping than the silver fairies, she turned her dazzling smile on me. "You 'ave good taste," she said approvingly. "When eet eez your wedding eet will be most beautiful I am sure."

I forced a laugh. "I'm not sure that day will ever come Fleur, but thanks anyway."

Fleur looked at me with what appeared to be genuine surprise. "Yes yes, with Tonks," she said firmly, and when I could think of nothing to say and merely squirmed with embarrassment she breezed on. "Tonks eez in love with you, oui? I heard her telling Molly so. She says she 'as never felt zees way before."

Burying herself in a pile of white fabrics, she missed the look of complete shock that had come over my face as I stared back at her.

_In love._ The words that had may have been thought, hinted at and maybe even mumbled indistinctly, but that had never truly been acknowledged. The words that I had tried not to think about ever since learning that Tonks' patronus had changed its form, knowing deep down what the only reason for this could be. The words that, before hearing them out loud, I could pretend weren't true, telling myself that Tonks simply had a sort of crush on me because I was an older man with a dark past, that she was still merely entertaining a fantasy about bringing me out of my shell, and that soon it would all blow over and she would realise that she could do far better.

"_Do you love her?" _James had asked me bluntly in our seventh year, after I had been going out with Mary for several months. "_I- I don't really know," _had been my completely honest reply. But had I been asked the same question about Tonks, right there and then, I could not have given the same reply with such sincerity. I had known for quite a while how I felt about her, probably ever since Sirius had given me that rare, serious speech and forced me to confront my feelings. But a lot had changed since then, and in any case, my own feelings were not the ones at stake here.

Nevertheless, I don't think Fleur could have possibly imagined the impact that she had on me, nor appreciated how much those two little words caught me off guard and stirred up the firm resolve that I had made upon Tonks departure for the mission - that I would back off, for her own good, and let her move on. It was those two simple words, _in love, _that first flashed through my mind when I heard Tonks and Bill returning to the Burrow late that night, that swayed my heart more than any other argument - whether from Sirius, Molly, Ginny, or Tonks herself - had in the past year, and, when Tonks paused outside my room on her way up to bed to see if I was still awake, it was the thought of those two words that prevented me from feigning sleep, that compelled me to open the door. And as I stood in front of her, taking in her tired expression as she nevertheless gave me a warm smile of greeting, as I realised just how much I'd missed her over the last week, as I returned her tight embrace, it was the thought of those words that stopped me from pushing her away again when, very tentatively, her lips brushed against mine for a third time.

And this time, I did not end the kiss abruptly, I did not push her away, and I did not recite to her a long list of excuses that she had already heard numerous times before. Instead, I allowed the desire that I had felt only once before to consume me entirely. I let the kiss continue in the dark privacy of the bedroom, and I let it go further, well beyond the point of no return, forgetting every reason I had not to be with her and hearing only those two words again and again in my mind as we lay, breathing heavily, in a stunned but satisfied silence and I pulled her closer towards me. And as she laid her head on my chest, directly over my heart, it was as if its rhythmic drumming was beating out those words over and over again. The words that I had never, in all my life, thought would be said about me. The words that, for better or for worse, had just sent me down a path from which there would be no going back.

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><p><strong> an Rereading this chapter it seems a little confused.. but I'm hoping that will just help to convey Remus's state of mind. ****I always saw something happening between them before the hospital scene, although I know some readers might feel differently. Remus probably isn't going to come off particularly well in the next chapter but hopefully will redeem himself.**

**There's not very many chapters left now, I hope to have the story finished in the next week or so because I'm going away for a while after than and won't have much time to write.**

**Please review :)**


	37. The Price To Pay

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Six<strong>

The Price To Pay

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><p>I may have been on a one way road but I did my very best to backtrack all the same. It was one of those situations where idealistic night time thoughts make everything seem like a good idea, until one is awakened by the harsh morning light and realises that such thoughts were in fact foolish, confused, and reckless. And so it proved. My initial reaction, upon waking up with Tonks in my arms and a smile on my face, was indeed one of joy, until I was yet again hit with the magnitude of what I had just done, and my elation immediately changed to fury at my own weakness.<p>

Tonks stirred beside me, and then opened her eyes and looked up at me with a happy and peaceful expression on her face. I could have sworn that her hair was thicker than it had been last time I had seen her, and tinged with pink, but I dismissed it as a trick of the light, because the thought that I had made Tonks that much happier in just a few hours did not go very well with what I was about to tell her.

"Well, last night was fun," she murmured, sitting up and stretching like a cat, but I did not return the contented comment. Of course it had been fun, but that was hardly the point. The point was that I had failed her. I had gone against all the rules that I had made to myself when I had felt myself falling for her during her first ever Order meeting two years ago. I had allowed her in and I had led her on, and now I would have to let her down again, and I knew that this time the fall would be even harder for her to bear.

My thoughts must have shown on my face, because her own joyful expression was rapidly disappearing.

"Don't start," she said warningly. "I know that look."

I started to speak, started to explain that I what had happened shouldn't have happened, and why, but of course she cut me off. She had heard it all before.

"How can you _still_ say that, after everything?" she burst out. "After last night, after this?" I looked her resolutely in the eye but just shrugged, and half a dozen different emotions flashed through the the subtly changing hues of her irises before she settled on anger. "You know what, I give up," she said, furious tears now glistening in her eyes as she got up abruptly. "If last night wasn't enough to change your mind then I can't imagine that anything will. "

I thought I heard a muffled sob as she left the room and slammed the door, and by the time I had got up myself ten minutes later she had left the house completely. She did not come back, and I did not see her again for six weeks. Six weeks during which I buried myself in work for the Order, trying to make up for lost time. I journeyed up and down the country, tracked Death Eaters and helped set up precautionary measures to prevent muggle attacks. I stood guard in Hogsmeade, and at Hogwarts when Dumbledore had to leave on important business. I took on job after job, mission after mission, putting all my time and energy into helping the Order.

But it wasn't enough. None of it was enough to erase Tonks' face completely from my mind. I saw it the second I woke up every morning, and before I fell asleep at night. She frequently appeared in my dreams, sometimes laughing, other times sobbing hysterically, whereupon I would wake up with a heavy weight on my heart and, regardless of what time it was when the dream jolted me awake, lie there feeling sick with guilt, unable to go back to sleep, until the early summer light burst through the window and I could justify getting up and beginning my day.

I began to fantasize about seeing her again. Perhaps we would be assigned the same mission and somehow, while working together, make peace with our current situation. Perhaps she would come to Grimmauld Place at some point, which is where I had now taken refuge, unable to bear the thought of Molly's persistent questions and disapproving looks if I stayed at the Burrow. Perhaps, somehow, she would realise that I was right, that we couldn't be together, but would still want to see me and renew the friendly companionship we had shared before my own foolish weakness had ruined everything. But none of it happened, and I didn't see her at all, and as the weeks continued, the crushing weight of guilt became so intense that sometimes I wondered if I was not going to stop breathing all together.

My one shred of news came from Kingsley Shacklebolt, as we both sat in Dumbledore's office waiting to be briefed about our coming guard duty at Hogwarts, who simply said that as far as he knew, she was fine. So anything but fine, I thought grimly, but I was prevented from pondering it any more because Dumbledore reentered his office looking very grave, and explained the purpose of our meeting. He was to go away on business that evening. He would like myself and several other members of the Order to stay at Hogwarts. Kingsley was to return to the ministry and make sure there were people prepared to act if he got a message about trouble at Hogwarts. I was to patrol the corridors in school, along with the other professors, Bill Weasley and- my heart gave a slight leap at the sound of her name- Nymphadora Tonks.

After he had finished briefing us, Dumbledore eyed us both very intently. His eyes were not sparkling as they usually did, and I noticed that he was fiddling with the skin on his blackened hand as he surveyed us both carefully. When he spoke, his tone of voice was serious. Flat. Without even the slightest hint of a joke or smile.

"I am not about to lie to either of you," he began quietly. "My journey tonight will take me on a dangerous road. I do not wish to alarm you, but I feel it is only right to warn you that there is no certainty that I will return."

I couldn't help but exchange a terrified glance with Kingsley on hearing this. Even he, normally so cool and unruffled, was looking distinctly uneasy.

"Should this be the case," Dumbledore went on, now speaking as casually as if he had merely announced that he was popping out for coffee and would be back later than planned. "I need you both, in the months that will follow, to bear in mind what I am about to tell you. It is my firm belief that the road to defeating Voldemort is going to be filled with more dangers than I think any of us could have possibly imagined when we heard learnt of his return two years ago. "

My breathing had suddenly become very shallow, and Kingsley's eyebrows were furrowed. I was struggling to fully comprehend the enormity of what Dumbledore was saying. I had never imagined a scenario like this, Dumbledore himself passing on knowledge so that we could continue to lead in his stead should he himself fall in the attempt. I had always assumed Dumbledore to be indestructible, eternal, forever present at the heart of the good we were all fighting for.

"I am telling you both this," Dumbledore continued, "because I know that, unlike some, this information will not panic you, rather focus your energy and renew your determination. You must be prepared, as the war progresses, to react to evil that has hitherto been unexplored, even by the darkest wizards of history. As my current knowledge of these dangers must be kept as quiet as possible, I will not go into details here, but I will tell you that in the last year, I have been spending time with the one person who I believe has the best chance of eradicating them for good."

"Harry," I murmured, trying to pull myself together in the face of Dumbledore's apparent faith in my ability to accept, rationally and calmly, that he might not live to see tomorrow. He met my eye and nodded.

"Harry," he confirmed. "And there will be times, in the coming months, when you and others are likely to question his judgement. I know, of course, that you will want to aid him in his task in every way you possibly can, but there may come a day, it may even come very soon, when he, Ron and Hermione decide it is time for them to act alone. Some will consider this inappropriate at their age. Some will want to shroud them, to smother them with protection and, although these intentions will be pure, they may inadvertently stand in the way of our one and only chance of victory."

Molly's protective face came to mind immediately, and I had a feeling that this was what Dumbledore was hinting at.

"But as you know, when he officially comes of age next month, Harry becomes a grown man and, young though he is, he will be free to act as he will," Dumbledore continued, a note of urgency now creeping into his voice. "And I implore you not to hinder his actions, should he choose to act alone, once this day comes about."

There was a definite finality to his voice now. "Please hold onto this advice," he said, looking between us. "Even if all else looks bleak, even if you struggle with the choices that will have to be made, day in, day out, as you attempt to vanquish this great force of evil, please, above all, remember what I am telling you today. Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him."

**oOo**

I was so preoccupied with Dumbledore's words that I barely listened to McGonagall as she took charge of our guard duty, and it was only when I started paying attention to what was going on that I realised she had paired me up with Tonks to man the sixth and seventh floors of the school, while she and Bill took charge of the middle floors and Flitwick and Sprout the bottom two. And although I had spent six weeks continuously hoping for a chance to see Tonks again, I was now wishing I was anywhere else but walking next to her as we made our way up to the top of the castle.

The dead quiet that seemed to echo between us was by far the most painful silence we had ever shared, every other awkward moment paling in comparison. I could think of absolutely nothing to stay that would not sound shallow, insensitive or hypocritical. I could hardly ask her how she was, given that her worn appearance told me everything I needed to know on that front. But nor could I just pretend that everything was fine and engage her in casual conversation, not when I was the cause of her unhappiness, and so the icy silence stretched on, and all I could think about was that I had made a bigger mess of things than I had even thought was possible.

Eventually, after several hours of silent patrolling that felt as long as several decades, we paused next to a large tapestry at the top of the flight of stairs leading up to the seventh floor and as we surveyed the many corridors that led off from the spot, searching for any signs of movement, I broke the silence, knowing that it was my duty to do so and unable to bear the coldness any longer.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I never meant for things to end up like this. If I could take back what happened then I would."

Tonks didn't even look at me as she replied, her voice flat and tired. "Take back what, Remus?" she sighed. "That night? The kiss? All the time we've spent together in the last two years? What exactly would you do differently to make sure that we didn't end up here, in this horrible situation where we can't even talk to each other?"

"I shouldn't have led you on," I replied quietly. "I knew nothing could ever happen and I'm sorry that I let you think something could."

She did not reply instantly and when I chanced a glance sideways at her she was glaring lividly at me. I had a feeling that if our duty hadn't necessitated quiet, then she would have started shouting, but instead she took a deep steadying breath in and exhaled very slowly before speaking.

"You don't get it, do you?" she hissed, as we started walking down one of the corridors again. "You still don't get it. You really think you could have just stopped me from feeling like this by avoiding me, by backing off a little and speaking to me a bit less? You think that if we had never kissed I would be fine, that if we had never spent that night together then I would have happily moved on by now?"

"I-" To be honest, that pretty much summed up exactly what I thought, but I felt it would be a mistake to say that quite so bluntly. "I should have just left you alone when I realised how you felt," I murmured.

Tonks stopped in her tracks and whipped round to face me, startling me with the abrupt movement. "You don't understand," she said again, her voice still a whisper but breaking with the amount of emotion behind it. "It was too late Remus. By the time you had any idea how I felt it was too late to change it. There was _nothing_ you could have done! No amount of distance would have stopped me falling in love with you!"

I had no words to respond to this bold statement, and I just stared back into her tortured, pale face, my heart now beating very fast. Even though she was telling me something I already knew, those two words, when uttered by Tonks herself, were causing even more turmoil in my mind than they had when Fleur had relayed them to me for the first time a few weeks before.

"Nothing," Tonks spat again, her voice growing stronger in the wake of my silence. "Is that what you're apologising for?" She ran her hand through her colourless hair, looking quite wild eyed now. "Are you blaming yourself for this state I'm in-"

"Of course I am," I interjected at once.

"Yes, well you should be!" she shot back angrily, and I winced at the accusation that I knew I fully deserved, but that still hurt when coming directly from her lips. "But _not_ because you led me on. Not because you should have backed off or whatever other noble sacrifice you're telling yourself you should have made. It's not your fault that I fell in love with you Remus! But-"

She broke off, and I knew why. Loud scuffles, footsteps and the sound of a door slamming had come from behind us, from the far end of the corridor, and we both whipped round. There was nothing to be seen, but then we had just rounded a corner, and beyond that corner any number of things could be happening.

"Come on," Tonks said abruptly, the auror side of her setting in as gestured back down the corridor and we started retracing our steps at a brisk march. "But-" she added vehemently, as we quickened our pace even more. "I mean it. Don't apologise because you couldn't stop _my_ feelings, Remus. Apologise because you're only hurting us both by refusing to acknowledge yours!"

Again I had absolutely no reply, but in any case I was saved the necessity of finding one. As we rounded the corner and reached the cross section of the corridors, three figures came sprinting towards us from our right. I raised my wand in alarm, but lowered it a second later as I saw who it was: Ron, Ginny and Neville, out of breath and looking panicked.

"What the-" I was alarmed, but Tonks cut over me.

"What's going on?" Her own tone of voice was one of deadly calm, and I had to admire her. In spite of everything, she still, even now, refused to let her emotions get in the way of her duty and no matter how run down she appeared, she was always able to pluck that steely resolve apparently out of nowhere. I wish the same could be said for me. I was still thoroughly unnerved by Dumbledore's earlier speech, and even more so by the unabashed declaration that Tonks had just blurted out. But I tried to pull myself together in the face of what was clearly a more urgent issue.

"Malfoy!" Ginny gasped. "He's brought Death Eaters into the school!"

"Through the Room of Requirement," Ron added. "We tried to follow but he sent everything into darkness and we lost them."

"We don't know where the went!" Neville broke in, looking around wildly, as if hoping that there might be a signpost.

"They must have gone that way!" I said, trying to sound calm, indicating the corridor in front of us. "We would have run into them otherwise. Do you know how many Death Eaters?"

"We couldn't see, but quite a few, by the sound of things!" Ron sounded very apprehensive, and I exchanged a grim look with Tonks.

"I'll get everyone else up here," she murmured, raising her wand and sending something shooting out of the end. And as the bright light flashed in the corner of my eye, I spun round suddenly, wanting to see her patronus for myself, my mind, in spite of the drastic turn of events, still partially focused on our most recent conversation. And as the silver shape raced down the corridor and disappeared from sight, I saw its form, clear as day. The proof I didn't now need. The proof that it really was too late to do anything to change the way Tonks felt about me. A physical sign that her feelings for me ran deeper than I could have possibly imagined they ever would that day I had first met her. Tonks was watching me as I tore my eyes away from where the wolf had disappeared from sight. Her gaze was stony.

"Come on," she said, her voice unbearably harsh, as she lead the way down the corridor at a run, and I pushed the though of the silver wolf out of my mind. Now was not the moment to dwell on it. There were Death Eaters in the castle.

**oOo**

The fight broke out almost instantly as we apprehended the Death Eaters at the foot of the astronomy tower. Tonks immediately sent several curses flying into their midst, and they scattered, turning abruptly to see who had interrupted them.

"STUPEFY!" Ginny and Neville roared simultaneously, and one of the Death Eaters was blasted backwards and hit the wall, sliding down it as blood started trickling from his head. Ron became instantly locked in combat with a short, scowling witch with a harsh expression. I sent a stunning spell at another Death Eater as he made for the astronomy tower stairs, but he dodged it, disappearing upwards and out of sight.

And then everything became a blur. Bill and McGonagall came running into the fray. Curses were flying everywhere. Bricks were caving in from the corridor ceiling, stones crumbling from the walls. It was almost impossible to see through the dust and aim properly, and I was terrified of hitting the wrong person by accident.

"Remus!" Tonks gave an agonised yell and I whipped round, dodging a jet of green light that had been sent my way. It streaked past me and straight for the Death Eater who had escaped earlier, hitting him in the chest just as he reached the bottom step of the stairs to the astronomy tower. He crumpled on the floor, dead in an instant.

I met Tonks' eye for the briefest of seconds, but the battle raged on without giving me time to dwell on the fact that I now had my life to add to the list of things I would never be able to stop owing her for. Tonks took on the Death Eater that had sent the curse. McGonagall was battling two at once. Ginny, Ron and Neville were working together with admirable skill and accuracy as they duelled two stocky Death Eaters that I recognized instantly as Amycus and Alecto Carrow. My heart gave a jump of horror as I saw Fenrir Greyback physically bringing down a disarmed Bill Weasley. I tried to get a clear shot at him but both Ron and Neville were fighting in front of me, and I was too afraid of hitting them by accident. I dodged another string of curses and made my way closer, finally blasting Greyback out of the way, but by that time it was too late. Bill was lying motionless on the ground, his face bloody and mangled, and as I tried to get closer to him, to help him, the huge Death Eater that Neville and Ginny had brought down earlier managed to revive himself, and started firing curses completely aimlessly round the narrow corridor. Several of them hit the walls, and more stones crumbled, the ceiling caving in even more. I could not get any closer to Bill, and although I tried to bring Greyback down as he ran past me, my curse - aimed to kill - hit another jet of light that had been fired at random, ricocheting off in a completely different direction but thankfully not hitting anyone it shouldn't.

I didn't dare repeat the action for fear of hurting my friends, and Greyback disappeared up the stairs. Then everything suddenly became momentarily calmer as the other Death Eaters followed him. The huge Death Eater was still with us, but was firing so many curses in all directions that it was all we could do to avoid them, much less bring him down ourselves. Miraculously, the curses seem to be completely missing the three youngest participants in the fight as they ran through the chaos and attempted to follow the Death Eaters up the stairs, but Neville, the first to reach them, gave a yell of pain as some invisible force threw him back and he hit the already crumbling wall with considerable force.

"We can't get through!" Ron yelled, trying to go up the stairs too and stumbling backwards. Ginny sent several reductor curses into the invisible barrier, with no effect. Then I vaguely registered Snape, appearing out of nowhere in a swirl of black robes, then disappearing up the stairs without any problems, and with angry yells, Ginny, Ron and McGonagall tried again and again to follow, while Tonks and I attempted to subdue the huge Death Eater. He seemed to have completely lost control - perhaps due to his head injury - for the curses were still streaming out of his wand in a completely nonsensical order and direction, and as I ducked and dodged, becoming progressively more tired, I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them hit me.

"Get away!" I heard McGonagall yell, and turned quickly to see her dragging the two youngest Weasleys away from the bottom of the stairs, just in time, for Snape and Malfoy burst back into the pandemonium, closely followed by the remaining Death Eaters. We let Snape pass, before closing in on those who had followed him, and then everything was a blur once again. Snape was shouting something as more fighting ensued, as more curses blasted round the claustrophobic space. I could not think anymore. I could not even make sense of what was happening to the others. All I could focus on was dodging the curses, on staying alive myself.

And then, one by one, they retreated. McGonagall sent several more stunning spells flying after the huge Death Eater as he, the last one to retreat, dodged them and sent a few final curses back over his shoulder in return. Tonks ducked them, finally sinking to her knees in exhaustion as the fight died out and the dust began to settle. Ginny and Ron raced over to where their brother was still lying, motionless, McGonagall attempted to revive Neville, and I approached Tonks and stretched out a hand to her. She let me pull her to her feet and collapsed against me, breathing heavily.

"Are you all right?" I asked worriedly.

She nodded firmly at my question, stood up straight and shook off my hold, refusing to show any further signs of physical weakness. I took a step back, wishing I could still hold on to her, wishing I could hug her, or give her some other sign of how relieved I was that she was safe, in spite of her fraught and manic duel. But I couldn't, not now, and so we walked over to join the figures huddled round Bill without a word.

**oOo**

Madam Pomfrey immediately worked herself up into a dreadful state at the sight of us all trooping into the hospital wing covered in dust and battle scars, clustered round the floating stretcher on which Bill was lying, motionless, his face a bloody mass of skin and flesh. She refused to listen to our protests that most of us were unharmed other than a few scrapes and bruises, and forced us all to sit down and drink copious amounts of a hot, strong, strange smelling liquid, firmly stating that none of us were to go anywhere, before turning her full attention to Bill Weasley's injury.

Ginny disregarded her orders as soon as her back was turned and went off to find Harry, who had apparently come down from the astronomy tower as well, although I had been too preoccupied at the time to notice him. When they both returned a few minutes later, I was unnerved by the traumatised look on Harry's face, even though he appeared physically unharmed. But he did not acknowledge our questions about his own well-being, instead asking about Bill, and Ron proceeded to fill him in on what had happened.

"Greyback hadn't transformed," he finished, looking at me anxiously for confirmation of what he was saying. "So surely Bill won't..."

He trailed off, and I tried to offer him what little reassurance I could on the situation.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," I said gently, praying that what I was saying was true. "But that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds."

I felt ill as I said the words. Cursed wounds. A cursed fate. A wave of renewed hatred for Greyback built up inside me as I looked at poor Bill's mangled features. If only I could have brought him down. That, at least, would have provided us both with a small sense of justice. But I hadn't, and so he was at large once more, no doubt ready to subject hundreds of other innocent victims to both mine and Bill's fate.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Ron burst out suddenly. "Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders. Dumbledore owes him! He can't just leave him in this state."

As he spoke, I was aware of Ginny's intake of breath from beside me, and I turned towards her, suddenly frightened, more scared than I had been all evening, Ron's question suddenly drawing attention to what I had not, up until then, registered properly: the most notable absence, the one person who would normally be here, after a fight, to calm the situation and assure us that everything could be sorted out.

"Ron, Dumbledore's dead," Ginny said. Her voice trembled as she said the words that confirmed what I had not wanted to believe, and a strangled noise issued from my throat as I turned wildly to Harry, wiling him to tell me that Ginny was mistaken. But he just stared back at me miserably, all the reasons for his distressed expression now becoming clear, and I felt my legs give way beneath me as I collapsed into a nearby chair, something disappearing from my world forever.

Dumbledore, the greatest wizard the world had ever seen, was dead. What hope did any of us have now?

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><p>Please review<p> 


	38. The Promise

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**Disclaimer: **Several lines in this chapter are taken directly from HBP, but I've tried not to repeat too much.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Seven<strong>

The Promise

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><p>The melodious notes of phoenix song echoed through the hospital wing, as we all sat in a numb, disbelieving state of grief. I could not comprehend what I had just been told, simply could not accept that Dumbledore was gone. In spite of his words to me and Kingsley, I had never thought it would actually happen. I had imagined him to return that night, safe, sound and smiling, and cheerfully inform us that thankfully his death had been put off for another long while.<p>

"Snape killed Dumbledore." As Harry relayed what he had already told us to McGonagall, who had just arrived in the hospital wing, the trance-like state brought on by the phoenix song was broken, the harmony in my mind harshly interrupted by the recollection of one of the last things I had ever heard Severus Snape say to me.

_"Sometimes sacrifices must be made if people are not to discover where our true allegiances lie."_

What sacrifices could Snape have possibly made to convince Dumbledore to have such unwavering trust in him? How had he managed to conceal all traces of his true allegiance until it was too late, until he had Dumbledore, powerless, wandless and completely at his mercy, unable to rectify his mistaken faith?

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," Tonks murmured, echoing my thoughts precisely.

"I know," Harry broke in at once, his voice cold and hard, and he explained what he knew, told us that it had been Snape who had passed on the information that had led to Lily and James' death, how he had spun Dumbledore a tale of regret, and how Dumbledore had accepted it.

I was utterly bewildered. That was it? That was the reason behind Dumbledore's steadfast, resolute defence of Snapes motives for fifteen solid years? Remorse that James was dead? Snape had hated James, and Dumbledore surely had known that only too well. He had not hated Lily as much, admittedly, but -

"He didn't think my mother was worth a damn either," Harry said bitterly. "Mudblood...he called her."

Yes, Harry was absolutely right. Snape's affection for Lily had not stretched to the point of preventing him from spitting unforgivable insults at her, insults that had brought about an abrupt end to their friendship. And yet Dumbledore had just accepted that he was sorry enough about her and James' death to switch sides, to throw himself, willingly and repeatedly, into the dangerous task of spying on the most lethal and remorseless wizard who had ever lived? There was probably more to it, I reasoned inwardly. If there was anything the last four years had taught me, it was that there was _always_ more to it. But I didn't have the energy to dwell on the ins and outs of Dumbledore's trusting nature. Whatever paths had led to this moment, the outcome was the same, and the numb shock was still creeping through me as we each relayed our part in the night's happenings, piecing together the horrific chain of events that had lead to this final, devastating conclusion. Dumbledore was dead. Dumbledore was gone.

Molly, Arthur and Fleur arrived not long after, horrified and dismayed at Bill's injury, and I felt a suffocating sensation of culpability creeping through me. I knew they would never acknowledge that I was to blame, of course, but I couldn't help it. If I had only managed to bring down Greyback before he had had a chance to attack, then Bill may be unharmed, and although I tried to push the guilt away, it was only intensified by each of Molly's trembling sobs. I averted my eyes to their display of grief, listening miserably as Fleur told Molly angrily that a werewolf attack was not going to be enough to stop her marrying the man she loved.

At these words, I felt Tonks shift slightly beside me and looked round at her, only to find her glaring back at me angrily, her thoughts plain as day on her face as she dwelled on this apparent injustice. I knew what she was thinking, of course. Why should it make a difference to us, and not to Bill and Fleur? But the answer was very simple. Bill would not be a true werewolf. He would not be subjected to brutal and dangerous transformations at the full moon. He would not be plagued with a despised affliction for the rest of his life. And those few facts made all the difference in the world.

"You see!" Tonks burst out, her voice cracking and her eyes flashing dangerously. I looked at her beseechingly, but knew that it would do no good, that she was too angry with me to let the matter drop, and so I closed my eyes and braced myself for the outburst that I knew was now going to come, the outburst that, to be perfectly honest, was only a fraction of what I deserved.

**oOo**

And so it was there, in a place already filled with so much pain and emotion that I was astonished there was even room for more, that the subject that always haunted my thoughts despite my efforts not to think about it at all, came up yet again. Tonks stood there, white, stricken and furious, in front of everyone, in front of my old teachers, my old students, in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione, who I was sure didn't have any idea what was going on, and let everyone know how she felt, told everyone how I had pushed her away, time and time again. And I was too embarrassed to meet anyone's eye as I reeled off my excuses to Tonks, like I always did, as I let other people's advice wash over me, like I always did, as I calmly and wearily fought off their protests, like I always did. Molly saying I was being ridiculous, sounding uncannily like Lily as she did so. Arthur giving his quiet and gentle opinion. Even McGonagall had something to say on the matter, which only increased my feeling of total mortification, and I couldn't have been more relieved when we were interrupted by a distraught and sobbing Hagrid, who told us he had moved Dumbledore's body.

But the ease of tension in the room was only momentary. As Harry left with McGonagall, and Arthur went off to notify the remainder of his family of Bill's injury, Tonks turned back to face me, her expression still fiery, her eyes blazing with what I assumed was hope that I had finally taken note of everyone's persistent advice and was going to give in. But my stubbornness had only been increased by the despair of the past few hours, and I just shook my head and dropped my gaze. There was the sound of abrupt movement, and I looked up again to see that she had turned on her heel and was storming out, pushing past Ron, Hermione and Ginny as they hovered nervously near the doorway of the hospital wing. All three of them looked as awkward and embarrassed as I felt, and unable to look them in the eye, I turned away.

Molly was watching me from her position beside Bill's bed. "Remus, I-" she began.

"Don't." I cut over her fiercely. The single word came out of my mouth in a harsh, broken command, and Molly looked highly distressed but said nothing else, turning back to her son. I watched blankly as she stroked his head, stared unhappily at Fleur as the tears poured down her beautiful cheeks and she whispered to Bill that she would always love him, no matter what.

"What do you reckon McGonagall wanted with Harry?" I heard Ron say in an undertone and I looked up at them again, hoping to return to normal conversation, then feeling sickened at the thought that what I deemed "normal" conversation was the subject of Dumbledore's death.

"Probably to ask him about where he went with Dumbledore," Hermione replied, her voice shaking. "She's headmistress now, after all. That'll be why she wanted the heads of houses and everything. It'll be her duty to work out what to do next."

"I can't imagine Hogwarts without Dumbledore," Ginny said sadly.

"They may well close the school altogether," I broke in quietly and the three of them turned towards me, looking shocked. "There may be no other option," I went on, spreading my hands in front of me helplessly. "Hogwarts' safely will be greatly compromised by this, as will its reputation. And without Dumbledore-" my voice cracked completely and I was unable to finish my sentence.

Ron was still looking awkward, Ginny worried, Hermione almost pitying, and not wanting to show any more weakness than I already had in front of them, I excused myself and left the hospital wing immediately.

I walked blindly, not even knowing where I was heading, but when I heard movement in the corridor in front of me I ducked into a little alcove behind a tapestry and sank down against a wall, shaking. The footsteps passed, accompanied by the sound of shrill, petrified voices, confirming the terrible truth that I already knew. Dumbledore was dead. Gone forever.

I sat there for a while, unable to move, still shaking slightly as I stared blankly at the back of the tapestry, suddenly remembering out of nowhere that this was the very place where James, Sirius and I had once hidden to avoid Filch, way back in our second year. It was an odd memory to think of now, one that didn't even feel real, because I could recall us shaking uncontrollably - not with grief or shock, but with silent laughter - as we pressed our hands to our mouths so as not to make a sound, completely overcome with a feeling of hilarity that I was fairly certain I would never experience again.

The corridor was now quiet, and I was about to go when I heard more footsteps and shrank back again, recognizing, as they came closer, Ron, Hermione and Ginny's voices. There was no way to leave now without them seeing me, but thankfully I was well hidden behind the tapestry as their footsteps stopped just feet away.

"What shall we do?" I heard Ron say. "Wait here for Harry? Go up to the common room?"

"Not the common room," Ginny said at once. "Everyone will start asking questions." Her voice was shaking horribly. I heard movement as the three of them presumably sat down on the stone bench that was just opposite the tapestry behind which I was sitting. I heard Hermione burst into tears. I heard Ron gruffly trying to comfort her. Then there was a long silence, broken only by Hermione's sniffs.

I felt distinctly uncomfortable. It was far from ideal, sitting here with no choice but to eavesdrop on the three of them, but it would be far more embarrassing to reveal myself now, and so I had no choice but to stay there, waiting quietly until they had left, their conversation floating through the thin tapestry.

"Do you really think they'll close the school?" Ginny said suddenly.

"Lupin seemed pretty sure they would." Ron replied. I felt a small jolt of surprise to hear myself being talked about, but it was strangely befitting to my current state of mind. I honestly felt as if a third person was dictating my actions, as if my thoughts and movements were being controlled by someone outside of my own body, someone who wasn't trying to come to terms with the devastating events of that evening.

"He was so upset, wasn't he?" Hermione said softly, her voice still trembling. "I've never seen him like that. I do hope he's all right." I felt vaguely gratified that Hermione seemed to care about how I was feeling, considering everything they had all been through that night, and also fairly embarrassed that they had seen me lose control of my emotions, which I had never done in front of them before. But again, it was an oddly detached feeling, all sensations numbed by the overwhelming grief of Dumbledore's death.

"I hope Tonks is ok too," Ginny said, sounding very worried, and my heart started beating faster, half of me dreading that they were going to touch on the subject I always tried not to think about, the other half of me mildly intrigued at what they had to say.

"I had no idea about her and Lupin!" Hermione said, so quietly now that I had to strain my ears to hear her. "It all makes sense now though, doesn't it? Her patronus changing and everything! And how she's been unhappy all year. She looked really ill today."

"She's felt a lot worse in the last few weeks," Ginny said soberly, and I felt slightly sick. The last few weeks. Yes, I knew exactly what had brought that on.

"How the hell do you know that?" I heard the surprise in Ron's voice as he questioned his sister.

"She told me, Ron," Ginny shot back.

"But how could she have told you? We haven't seen her for ages!"

"There's these magic things called letters, Ron," Ginny sighed, and in spite of everything, I felt my mouth twist into a slight smile, their bickering bringing a welcome touch of reality to my current situation. "See, unlike you I actually make an effort to keep in touch with people when I'm at school."

"Alright, just asking," Ron said, sounding irritable. "Never would have guessed it was about Lupin though! All this time we thought she was upset about Sirius!"

"Well, she was," Ginny said slowly. "But then when Lupin turned her down it made everything worse. And she's just been going downhill since."

Just as it had been at Christmas when she had spoken to me directly, Ginny's tone was more factual than in any way accusatory, but that didn't lessen the instant weight of guilt that crashed back over me as I thought back to Tonks' thin, worn face and tear-filled eyes.

"But I don't get what the problem is," Ron said, sounding confused. "Why should it make any difference that he's a werewolf? If Tonks doesn't care, isn't that all that matters?"

"Well, I suppose it's much easier for us to look at it like that," Hermione replied at once, sounding much more like her usual analytical self now. "But he's had a lifetime of fighting against prejudices and people who are too narrow minded to see him for who he really is. I guess it takes its toll."

"I don't think everyone going on at him will have helped," Ginny said. "Mum's been on his case all year."

"Poor bloke," Ron muttered fervently. "Like that's what anyone needs on top of everything else!"

Ginny murmured her agreement but Hermione spoke tentatively. "She has a point though." she said. "I mean, even though I understand how he feels about it, Ron's right."

"I am?" Ron sounded quite bemused.

"Yes," Hermione said patiently. "What you said about it not mattering what he is. It doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to Tonks, or any of us, for that matter. So what's the point of them both being unhappy?"

This had to be one of the most surreal moments I had ever experienced. So surreal, in fact, that I was momentarily distracted from the thought of Dumbledore's death. The three of them ended their conversation there and turned to wondering aloud where Harry had got to, eventually deciding that he must have gone back to the common room via a different route, and I let out a deep sigh as they departed. Molly was certainly right about one thing. If I had got to the point where I was hiding behind a tapestry listening to three teenagers discuss my own feelings, with - it had to be said - a fair amount of accuracy, then things really were getting ridiculous. One way or another, something had to change.

**oOo**

"Tonks, why can't you just drop this," I said pleadingly. Her furious reaction to my appearance at her house cut a deep contrast with the tightly controlled coldness that she had demonstrated on my last visit and I had only just managed to prevent her from slamming the door in my face. "It's killing me to see you like this, you have to know that, but I've said all I can say, and I don't understand why you can't just accept-"

"I'll tell you why!" Tonks snapped, wheeling round to face me as I stood, helplessly, in the middle of her living room, talking to the back of her head as she stared furiously into the empty fireplace. "I'll tell you! Because don't think I haven't tried. Don't think I didn't do everything I could to push you out of my mind. I even tried to hate you, for making me feel so utterly worthless. Don't interrupt," she yelled brokenly, as I made to protest, as I always did, that I was the one who was worthless. "You can say what you like Remus, but I did feel worthless, because I was giving myself to you, throwing myself at you, and all you did was push me away. And you're _still_ pushing me away!"

She was shaking a little as she continued. "But I couldn't hate you, and I couldn't give up on you, and I sat here," she gestured wildly around the living room, "for _hours_ sometimes trying to work out why. And after driving myself almost insane with my stupid, obsessive thoughts, I realised..."

I waited as she paused to take a deep steadying breath.

"You never said that you didn't feel the same way," she finished, a little more calmly. "For all your stupid, _ridiculous_ arguments, all your protests that you were too old, and too poor, and that you might hurt me... You sure as hell made me feel like you didn't want me but you never actually said it."

"But Tonks," I protested, the frustration at what she was saying making me want to rip my hair out as I pushed my hand through it. "You know full well that was never the problem. You know this isn't about you! You know that I wish things were different and we could be together. So how could I just stand here and tell you that I don't?"

"Because it would have helped to hear it!" Tonks retorted instantly. "Because I told myself that if I could hear those words - even just once - then I could convince myself that you really didn't want me and then I could move on. I've been rejected before, you know! Quite a few times, actually. A lot of guys can't stand the fact that they don't know what face they're going to wake up to in the morning! But do you really think that all those times I wasted months grieving and pining and making a complete idiot of myself? Because I didn't," she spat, her voice raising again as I made no reply. "I got over it and I was fine! But this was different because although I knew it really wasn't because of me, it would have been so much easier to accept if it had been. And no matter what I did I couldn't stop hoping that at some point you were going to change your mind!"

I couldn't help thinking this was very clear proof that, whatever Tonks had told me earlier, she would have been a lot better off if I'd just left her alone from the start. But the damage was now done and nothing I said could reverse it, and so I just stood there, in silence, and bore the wrath that I knew I fully deserved.

"So say it!" she was practically was screaming now. A few stray tears ran down her cheeks, but she brushed them away impatiently. "Just tell me that you don't want to be with me, that I'm not good enough for you! And I swear I'll get over you, and I'll move on, and I'll find someone else. Someone younger, someone who isn't a werewolf. I'll do all those things that you keep saying you want for me, if you just tell me that you don't love me the way I love you."

There they were again, those words that changed everything. Those words that infiltrated my mind and confused all my reasoned thoughts. And as she finished shouting and waited expectantly, her chest heaving with emotion, and I stared resolutely back at the woman I desperately wanted to be with, the woman who I knew, now with complete certainty, that I loved in a way I had loved no one else in all my life, trying to do what she asked for her own sake, I found that the words wouldn't come, and I stood there, mouthing foolishly like a confunded goldfish for several minutes, trying to work out why.

Part of me wanted to believe that it was quite simply because I couldn't bear to lie to her, that I couldn't stand the idea of saying those hurtful words even if I knew it would be for the best in the long run. It was the obvious and most comfortable argument, and yet... Unbidden, James' words, spoken so long ago, echoed in my head, just as they had when Dumbledore had finally persuaded me to take up the teaching post at Hogwarts.

"_You'd never have refused if you'd actually thought we'd give up on you."_

Yet again, I replayed these words in my mind and tried to work out if that was my way of dealing with my life decisions. Had I always felt safe in the knowledge that Tonks wouldn't give up, and would continue to try and persuade me? Had I, once I'd become aware of the depth of her feelings towards me, held on to this comfortable notion that she would continue to want me in spite of my protests and that I would always have the chance to change my mind? It had certainly not been a conscious thought, and it was distinctly sobering to even think that it might have been an unconscious one, because I hated the idea that something this selfish had caused her so much anguish. But the longer I stood there, utterly incapable of saying the few words that would actually push her away for good, the more I realised that it must be true.

"I can't say that," I said finally, and as she raised her eyes to the ceiling in total despair, I reflected on what was now the only possible way forward. Now, unable to rid my mind of the sickening thought that my actions had been unintentionally selfish, I realised that I was left with only one option. To be honest it seemed selfish too, but then, if that was how I was going to be anyway, I might as well do it in the way that was going to benefit both of us, instead of the way that was making us both desperately unhappy. And that was my final thought as I reached out and took her hand, pulled her closer to me and kissed her. We stood there for several moments, her hand tight in my own, her mouth warm on mine, the kiss softer and gentler than our previous ones had been, but this time it was she who cut it short, her eyes wary as she pulled away and looked mistrustfully up at me.

"Are you just doing this to shut me up?" she asked, a note of warning in her voice. "Because if you're going to kiss me and then tell me that nothing can happen. If you're going to walk away again, I-"

"I won't." I interrupted quietly. "I'll stay this time." I took a deep breath and uttered the words I very rarely said, so aware of their weight. "I promise."

Her eyes widened slightly in understanding, and she gave a tiny nod as she let me pull her close again, her arms snaking up round my neck, my own wrapping tightly around her waist. And this time, no objections were raised, and neither of us spoke again for a considerable amount of time.

**oOo**

"_Come on, give us another chance," Sirius laughed. In a rare moment of lightheartedness to celebrate my birthday, the three of us were gathered in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place with a bottle of fire whiskey, playing a fairly childish game in which Tonks would make a face and we had to look at it without laughing. She was particularly skilled at mimicking the features of people we knew, and just minutes before Molly's stern face had been staring back at us from under Dumbledore's long white hair and beard, sending us both into a fit of laughter. In fact, we had so far lost every time, and Tonks was claiming that she wanted a more challenging game._

_"You're both far too easily amused!" she sighed. "Let's do something else."_

_"Oh go on, do another one. I won't laugh this time, I promise!" Sirius persisted. Tonks rolled her eyes and turned to me, her face lit up with fun. "What about you then?" she asked in a mock patronizing sort of voice. "Do you promise too?"_

"_No," I answered, suddenly serious for a moment, aware that this was just a game, but unwilling to forget the lecture that my father had earnestly bestowed upon me when, at just six years of age, I had begged him to promise me that he would always be there to defend me if the werewolf attacked again. I looked Tonks directly in the eye._

"_My father once told me that on no account should I ever make a promise if I wasn't certain that I'd be able to keep it."_

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><p>Please review x<p> 


	39. A Quiet Union

**Thanks for the reviews :)**

**Bit of a fluffy chapter, and I'm pretty bad at writing stuff like this but this story needed a bit of happy stuff so I gave it a go. Hope its ok!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Eight<strong>

A Quiet Union

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><p>"Will you, Remus John Lupin, promise to love Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks unconditionally as you spend your lives together from this day forth? Will you cherish her, appreciate her and remain faithful to her for always?<p>

"I will."

"And will you promise to care for her, to shield her from harm, to protect her from evil, both magical and otherwise, to the very best of your ability for the rest of your life?"

"I will"

"And will you take her, for now and for always, in sickness and in health, through the good times and the bad, to be your wife for as long as you both shall live?"

"I will."

I was making an awful lot of promises that day. But as I looked into her radiant, smiling face as she said her own vows, her bright blue eyes sparkling with tears of pure happiness, I felt that these would be the easiest promises I would ever have to keep.

**oOo**

It had taken ten days, the ten days that had elapsed between Dumbledore's death and his funeral. Ten days, during which Tonks and I had somehow progressed through the regular stages of a relationship in a time frame that, by regular standards, would not even have accommodated two dates. And thanks to her happy demeanor and her newly regained positive attitude, the pain of losing my oldest, wisest mentor had been lessened just a little with every passing hour.

o

I'm not entirely sure how it happened overnight, but somehow all bitterness and resentment over our scene in the hospital wing had disappeared by the time we woke up the next morning, even if she did seem to doubt the sincerity of my change of heart at first. Who could blame her, after all?

"What you going to do today?" she asked cautiously, as she got ready for work and watched me get dressed myself.

"Order work needs doing," I said heavily. "I don't even know where to begin, to be honest. I'll try and get hold of Mad Eye. And we need to sort out what will happen to Grimmauld Place."

I did not even want to contemplate what would happen now, in the absence of Dumbledore, but I was determined to stay focused. Dumbledore's last words to me had proved that he trusted me, and I was not going to let him down. He had been let down enough already by those he had trusted most.

"But you'll come back?" Tonks was looking at me nervously, and I heard the note of worry in her voice. The worry that I was going to run away and pretend last night's events hadn't happened, just as I had done before. I finished getting dressed and crossed the room to where she was standing by the door.

"I'll always come back," I said, kissing her gently. "I promised."

o

After three days, I heard her laugh again. Not a bitter chuckle, nor a forced, humourless noise made to try and lighten an uncomfortable situation. Not just a small exhalation of amusement, but a proper, genuine laugh. An almost musical sound that she let out at the sight of me tripping over a pair of her boots that were lying by her front door, upon entering her house that evening. It had been another long day, as Mad Eye and myself were still ploughing through the enourmous pile of work that now needed doing for the Order. Yet somehow, in spite of this, not to mention my ungainly fall to the floor on arriving home, the sound of Tonks' laugh was music to my ears, warmth to my heart, a balm on my soul that eased the sorrow that my work that day had brought flooding back over me.

"I'm supposed to be the clumsy one, not you!" she said, still chuckling, as I picked myself up and dusted down my robes.

"Well, I tripped over your boots," I grumbled, smiling all the same as I looked back into her grinning face. The face I had seen just twelve hours before but that I had missed almost constantly during that time. I suddenly wondered how on earth I had managed to go five weeks without even speaking to her, when now it was all I could do to spend five minutes without thinking about when I was going to see her again.

"How was your day?" I enquired, taking off my overcloak and hanging it on a peg, before following her into her little kitchen. In answer she said nothing, merely turned round, threw her arms round me and kissed me. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to that feeling, of being able to kiss her, to hold her, to love her and not have to feel guilty about it.

"Really, that good?" I joked, as we broke apart.

"Actually, no," Tonks sighed, now looking serious. "It was lousy. Whole ministry's still in chaos over Dumbledore. Someone found out I was there that night and so I had everyone asking me a million questions." The smile had faded and I pulled her into another warm hug in an attempt to bring it back. It seemed to work, for when I released her, she was looking up at me, her eyes glowing.

"I made dinner," she said, her face very close to mine.

"Sounds good," I whispered, but dinner was the last thing on my mind as my lips found hers.

o

I still hadn't said the words out loud. She knew how I felt, of course. She had always understood my own feelings better than I ever had. But that wasn't the point. I wanted to say them. I needed to say them. But somehow the more I thought about where and when to do it, the more scared I became. And I didn't even know why.

I'd been dwelling on the issue for several days when it was resolved of its own accord, as I watched her contemplate her reflection in the long mirror in the bedroom one morning. Almost a week on from Dumbledore's death, she was looking far healthier, her eyes brighter, her face much less tired, her hair thicker. But her colourful appearance had yet to return, despite her best efforts.

"I hope I haven't just lost the ability to do it," she said, screwing up her face in annoyance after several failed attempts to change her hair colour. "I haven't even been bothered about it for months, but I assumed it would come back when I started caring again."

I opened my mouth, wanting to apologise to her, wanting to say how sorry I was that these problems were all my fault. But it wasn't an apology that left my mouth.

"I love you, Dora."

She turned away from the mirror, looking mildly surprised, and didn't speak for several seconds as she just held my gaze. Then she smiled.

"I know," she said, moving towards me. "But it's nice to hear it."

"And I love you," she added, as we broke apart and made our way downstairs for breakfast, and my heart gave a little leap in my chest. That was another thing I didn't think I would ever get used to: the sound of those two words being said to me, about me, and I never knew, after that moment, why I had been so afraid of saying them myself. I said them again, when she returned from work that evening, and once more when we were drifting off to sleep. Her pink hair made a reappearance the following morning.

o

Did I still have moments of worry? Moments of panic when I thought about how being romantically linked to a werewolf would destroy her high ranking stature within the wizarding community? Yes, of course I did. I did not express my concerns, knowing that she would dismiss them impatiently, but occasionally I saw her glance at me with a slight crease in her forehead, and I knew that my fears were probably showing on my face.

"What's up?" she asked, one evening, as we got ready for bed. I had been watching her change, half of me still marveling at the fact that I was allowed to take in every beautiful inch of her in a way that no one else could, the other half of me still struggling to comprehend why someone like her could possible want to be with me.

"Nothing," I said at once.

"Liar," she retorted and I smiled reluctantly. There was no hiding anything from her. There never had been, and so I tried to explain my worries without making it sound like I was regretting my decision to be with her. Which I wasn't. Nothing could have made me regret those last few days.

"Dora, I love you. So much. It's just- I still worry. I will always worry. About what being associated with me will do to you. To your job. To your reputation. I will always worry about the problems I am going to bring to your life."

Tonks just sighed but did not turn away from the mirror, where she was still appreciating her renewed colourful appearance.

"You're an idiot," she said, running a brush through her shoulder length pink hair. I watched her experiment with several different hairstyles before changing it back to pink and turning towards me.

"You know what your only _real_ problem is?" she said, coming over to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed and placing her arms loosely round my neck. I looked up into her face, suddenly feeling so much smaller than her. But then I supposed I was. She was the bigger person here, and she always had been.

"Your problem," she continued. "Is that you over think every stupid little thing, Remus. You analyse everything and you worry about a million different possible futures that might not even happen. What's the point? We can't predict the future! Ok, so the ministry hates werewolves today. Who's to say that in a week's time they won't be against freaks like me as well? For all we know, the whole system's so corrupt that it will collapse tomorrow and none of us will have a job at all!"

"Unlikely," I said, looking at her sceptically. "And you're not a-"

"Are you happy?" she interrupted abruptly. "With me? With us?"

I gazed into her sparkling eyes, unable to express the full extent of my feelings, incapable of coherently explaining that without her by my side throughout this last difficult week, I would not have been able to do anything at all, let alone do it with a smile on my face and a light in my heart.

"Yes," I whispered, trying to dislodge the lump that had risen in my throat. "I am."

"Well so am I," she said, now leaping onto the bed and grinning up at me as she wriggled under the covers. "Nothing else matters."

And in that moment, nothing did.

o

"Why are you calling me Dora all of a sudden?" she enquired, later that night, as we lay curled up together in the darkness.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"Not really. It's just odd. No one's called me that before," she replied slowly. "Except my parents."

"So you've always been Tonks?" I asked curiously. "Since you were little?"

"Mum used to call me Nymphy," she said with a scowl. "When I was five!" she added defiantly, and even though it was dark I could sense her glaring up at me as I opened my mouth to tease her. "I put a stop to that as soon as I could and she's called me Dora ever since! And then when I was eight I decided that it was going to be Tonks to everyone else." She laughed. "Just ignored everyone who used my full name, even at Hogwarts! Most professors use surnames anyway, so that worked out. Except for Snape. Git cottoned on within three weeks and has called me Nymphadora ever since."

There was a silence as we reflected on Snape, but not wanting to taint the moment with thoughts of someone who made me so bitterly angry, I steered the conversation back to more lighthearted issues.

"So am I allowed to call you Dora?" I persisted.

"Well, I suppose so," she said. "But what's wrong with Tonks?"

"Nothing," I said, which was true. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the name Tonks. It suited her. It was what everyone called her. Even I referred to her as Tonks without so much as a second thought. It was Tonks, the vibrant, strong-willed auror that I had first fallen for, as she bounced clumsily around the rooms of Grimmauld Place. Why I had started calling her Dora over the last few days I wasn't really sure. It had just sounded right. It seemed to represent the softer side of her, the gentle, kind streak that made me feel completely at home whenever I was with her.

"I like Dora," I said simply.

"Alright then," she sighed, shifting closer to me and pressing herself against me, the warmth of her body seeping into my own. "Dora it is."

o

By the time Dumbledore's funeral came about two days later, her vibrant personality had made a complete recovery, all hint of her former misery and depression gone, and even my own grief at losing my mentor was a fraction of what it had been ten days before.

It returned with full force during the ceremony, and I felt no shame in just letting the tears fall, holding tightly on to Tonks' hand all the while and feeling grateful for its strong, comforting grasp. Afterwards, as we became lost from all familiar faces in the sea of people who had come to pay their respects, we just walked in silence, hand in hand, away from the scene, pausing on the outskirts of the forest, the edge that got the most sun, where the leaves were now a brilliant green.

I held her, suddenly never wanting to let her go.

"I love you," I murmured. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "I always will."

It was the word always that stirred the feeling within me, the feeling that although the word symbolised, in theory, an eternity, the ceremony we had just attended proved that the proportion of it spent living and breathing could end at any moment. And I suddenly understood what James had meant, in his serious speech after Sirius had expressed doubts that it might be too soon for him and Lily get married.

"_We could have a lifetime ahead of us.. we could also have a year.. a month.. even a day._"

And wasn't that true once again? Plunged as we were into the depths of war, now without our greatest leader and guide, our futures looked, if possible, even more grim than they had back in the days of the first war, and the first Order. Wasn't now the time to be seizing chances, before it was too late and before those chances were taken so cruelly away from us?

I must have frozen, because Tonks was looking at me suspiciously. "What's that look for?" she asked.

I tried to shake myself out of the ridiculous idea that had just occurred to me. Seizing chances was one thing, but after ten days this was hardly the time to propose, and, as we were attending a funeral, nor was it the place.

Or was it? The Hogwarts' grounds looked so beautiful in the early summer. The trees were green, the forest thick, and this very spot in which we were standing had been the place where, as a timid little first year, I had dared approach Sirius, James and Peter and join in their conversation. It was a spot that marked the start of one beautiful relationship. Why should it not now mark the start of another?

Tonks was still looking bewildered. "Remus, are you still with it?"

"Yes," I hastily stopped day dreaming and decided, for once in my life, to stop analysing every possibility and go with my instincts. "Very with it. I-"

No one else was around, but I pulled her a little further into the woods nonetheless, for guaranteed privacy.

"Ok, here it is, I don't have much to offer you, if anything at all."

"This _again_?" Her voice was terse and incredulous. "Remus, come on-"

"I don't even have a ring," I interrupted, hoping this would make her understand, and the words died in her throat as she gaped at me expectantly, looking like she didn't dare believe what she was about to hear.

"But," I went on, feeling a ridiculous surge of emotion burning in my chest, "if you mean what you just said and you really will always love me, then I can at least offer you my word that I will do the same."

I had nothing to give her, so I just took her hands in mine, and looked straight into her eyes, which she had changed to silver as a tribute to our former headteacher.

"Nymphadora Tonks, will you marry me?"

**oOo**

"I will."

And here we were, just two weeks later, in a little church outside Hogsmeade, where Dora's parents had got married themselves. And she had just finished her vows and suddenly there I was, a married man, something that I had never - particularly recent years - even dreamed I could be.

Our pitifully small audience, consisting of Molly, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, and Mad Eye, beamed up at us as we had our first married kiss and made our way back down the aisle to the door.

Fleur had been quite aghast at the idea that we were taking less than a fortnight to arrange the wedding, but we hadn't wanted to put it off or make a big deal over it, and if it hadn't been for the full moon, then I would have happily got married even sooner. In fact, having sat in bewilderment with both Lily and Fleur at some point during their wedding plans, watching them pore over dress designs, materials and different flower arrangements, it had surprised me how little there really was to do when stripped to the bare essentials. We needed to find a secure location, someone to perform the ceremony and two official witnesses.

"And bridesmaids and a best man," Tonks said firmly. "Let's be indulgent!" she added jokingly. I smiled tightly at this, suddenly worried again. This was hardly the beautiful ceremony that I knew most young witches dreamed of at some point in their youth. There were no decorations or flowers. No reception, unless you counted gathering back at the Burrow afterwards for a glass of wine. She was to wear a simple white cotton summer dress that Hermione had dug out the back of her wardrobe and most of the people we loved wouldn't be there to see us exchange our vows. Even her own parents couldn't make it. I was absolutely convinced that this was because they couldn't bear to see their only daughter promise to spend her life with a werewolf, but Tonks waved away my attempt at a protest.

"My parents aren't like that, you know they're not," she said. "If my dad was any more laid back he'd be horizontal, and the rest of mum's family are married to Death Eaters. Honestly, she's just glad I'm marrying a decent human being. But they can't risk leaving the house at the moment."

That I understood. Everything seemed to have taken a drastic turn for the worst since Dumbledore's funeral. Attacks were ever on the rise. An increasing number of families were going into hiding, particularly muggleborns. I knew that Hermione had modified her parents memories and they had gone to live in Australia, unaware that they even had a daughter. Both she and Ron were refusing to tell anyone of their plans for the following year, but it seemed, as Dumbledore had predicted, that neither they nor Harry would be returning to school. The future of Hogwarts hung in the balance anyway, while the future of the ministry looked bleaker than ever before, each day bringing us more tales of betrayal, blackmail and corruption. Tonks had stopped going to work, which was another thing I felt responsible for. The news of our engagement had somehow leaked even in two short weeks, and I knew that this was probably the reason behind Kingsley's advice that she stay well away from the ministry for the time being, but again, she refused to let me take any blame for it.

"I want to marry you Remus," she said. "That's more important to me than any job!"

"But is this the wedding you want?" I persisted. "Hidden away. No proper ceremony. Hardly anyone there with us?"

"I would marry you if no one was there with us!" Tonks declared at once. "But we need witnesses and we might as well ask the people who will easily be able to come." She sounded so determined that I gave in and stopped protesting, because I wanted to marry her too, more than anything in the world.

And so Tonks had asked Mad Eye to be a witness and Hermione her bridesmaid, and in the absence of Harry, who was still at his relatives' house and who I would have otherwise asked to be my best man, I decided that he would be happy to let his best friend take his place. Ron had looked a bit gob-smacked but very pleased and said he'd be delighted. Bill was away on Gringotts' business and so Fleur had begged to come too, and in spite of Molly's reservations, Arthur had insisted on looking after the house while she took the day off to attend.

Ginny, after many furious arguments with her mother, had been left behind. Tonks and I would have both loved her to be there, but Molly had insisted that it was too dangerous for her under-age daughter to leave the safety of The Burrow and that final word could not be overruled. Ginny had said goodbye that morning with red eyes, obviously trying but failing to hide her sulky expression.

I did feel very sorry for her, knowing that she always felt left out of things and suspecting that she had not had the easiest summer as it was, for Tonks had told me that Harry had recently ended their relationship, but I also knew that Molly was right. The safest place for any of us now was the Burrow, which had had a multitude of protective enchantments cast over it in preparation for Harry's arrival. Additionally, I knew that the presence of someone underage would put us all at risk. There were now so many Death Eaters infiltrated in the workings of the ministry that anyone who still had the trace on them would have made it considerably easier for them to find us.

And not even Voldemort, I thought furiously, as I stepped out of the church with my new wife at my side, was going to ruin this wonderful moment.

**oOo**

Ginny had recovered by the time we returned to the Burrow, and had taken it upon herself to make a cake, produce a bottle of champagne, and gather Fred, George and Arthur in the living room to throw some confetti over us as we walked in the door.

"Thanks Ginny," I said, truly touched as Tonks hugged her in delight and I took in the hand iced cake on the table, with _Congratulations_ written on it in shaky silver writing. The twins came forward to offer their own congratulations by setting off several miniature fireworks over our heads, and Arthur shook my hand several times with a beaming smile on his face.

It was, by all accounts, a very pleasant evening and I think we both appreciated the benefits of such a simple wedding. There was no small talk to be made with distant relatives and acquaintances, no awkward mingling to ensure that we spoke to everyone, just a casual atmosphere, familiar faces and pleasant conversation, and it was many slices of cake and glasses of champagne later than we eventually decided to retire.

"We'd best be off," Tonks said with a yawn, giving Ginny another hug to thank her for her efforts. "Things to do, you know."

"Ha! I bet you have," Fred broke in audibly.

"Big night after all!" George nodded seriously. "Good luck mate!" he added, winking at me, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Boys! Behave!" Molly scolded, as she accompanied us to the door. "Goodbye dears. So many congratulations and we'll see you next week for Harry's retrieval!"

Was it that night that did it? I often wondered afterwards, thinking back to our return to Tonks' little house where we celebrated our wedding night much as the twins had cheekily predicted. Dora often said it was, no doubt liking the romantic notion, although given the time scale I knew it was far more likely that the events had already been set in motion by the time we were married.

But whenever it happened, it didn't really matter. What did matter was that somehow, carelessly, foolishly, _selfishly_, I allowed a part of myself, a part of my tainted flesh and blood, to be passed on.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	40. Flawed Genes

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Nine<strong>

Flawed Genes

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><p>"What?" I had misunderstood. I had to have done. She couldn't possibly have said what I thought she had, because the consequences were too horrific to even consider.<p>

_"I'm pregnant," Lily said, her eyes sparkling with barely contained joy. James beamed round at us all, while Sirius gave a cry of delight and pulled Lily into a hug, and I got up to do the same, those two words evoking within me an incredible feeling of delight for my two friends. How perfect a way to continue the beautiful union of their wedding, by bringing a new life into the world. And how wonderful that we had another ray of hope to cling onto, even though the world around us was falling apart._

But seventeen years later, the wonder I had felt that day did not manifest itself as I stared blankly back at my wife, unable to believe what she had just said.

"What did you say?"

"I think I'm pregnant! I'll have to make the testing potion to be one hundred percent sure, but I'm almost certain I'm right."

Three days since we had retrieved Harry. Three days since we had lost Mad Eye. Three days since I had honestly believed I was going to die, as we were ambushed in the skies above Little Whingeing. Three days since I had stood in the garden of The Burrow for what felt like an eternity, staring up at the empty sky and praying with every fibre of my heart that Dora was safe. And now here she was in front of me, in perfect health, but dropping a bombshell, the greatest one of all.

"How long will the potion take?" was all I could say, my voice hoarse. How long until we knew for certain? How long could I hold onto the hope that she was mistaken, that she had got her dates wrong, misread the signs?

"Twenty-four hours. It's really easy though. Takes about ten minutes to add all the ingredients and then I leave it to stew overnight."

She was still beaming up at me, but I could not return the smile, and I merely nodded.

"You're... you are happy aren't you?" she faltered, her joyful expression fading, obviously bewildered at my lack of response.

"Of course," I said, faking a sickly smile. I could tell that she was not fooled, but for once she did not persist, and we spent most of the evening in silence, as I dwelled on the one hope left to me: that Dora was wrong, and that when the potion confirmed so the next day, she would agree that the idea of having a child with me was impossible and we would just have to be more careful in the future.

**oOo**

It took me several minutes the next morning to remember why I was waking up with a heavy feeling of dread in my stomach, and when I did remember, I felt even worse about the idea than I had the previous day. It wasn't the fact that being a father meant nothing to me. In fact it meant more than I think even Dora could possibly imagine. But being a father wasn't the problem. It was the road that led there, my own genes being imprinted in another human life, an _innocent_ human life. I felt ill as I thought of everything I had risked. I hadn't even been thinking about the possibility of conceiving a child until now, and had made no attempt to find out if Lycanthropy could be passed down a generation. I had no point of reference, for I had never even heard of a werewolf marrying and having children before.

_That's because they shouldn't marry and have children_. The harsh voice in my mind that I had barely heard at all in the last month was back, unwelcome and unbidden, but completely unavoidable. And it was right. I should never have married Dora in the first place, but that was done now, and as long as she was happy then I could be happy too. She had chosen to marry me, after all. But having a child was a different matter. A child would not have that same freedom to choose whether I was part of their life or not. And that wasn't fair.

I thought of all the awful treatment I had received over the past thirty years, my insides clenching miserably at the idea of my own son or daughter being subjected to the same fate. I dwelled unhappily on the matter all day. So much so that I could not even concentrate on Harry's seventeenth birthday celebrations that evening, and when Arthur's patronus interrupted the party and warned us of the arrival of the minister, I immediately used it as an excuse to leave, to flee all the happy faces which, try as I might, I couldn't be one of.

"We didn't have to leave!" Tonks protested, as I dragged her beyond the fence that surrounded The Burrow.

"Our presence isn't going to do Harry any favours," I said quietly. "Or at least, _my_ presence isn't going to do Harry any favours!"

But Tonks was looking at me suspiciously. "Maybe...But that's not why you wanted to go, is it?" she said shrewdly, and I did not reply.

"Look-" she began.

"Come on," I said, knowing I sounded harsh. "Let's just go home."

Tonks looked deeply concerned as she nodded without another word, and we made her way back to her house, all my thoughts fixed on the cauldron of potion which, on our return, would be ready to announce exactly how many lives I had ruined by letting my feelings get the better of me.

"What now?" I said, as she emerged from the bathroom with the beaker of green potion, which was finished to perfection and now bubbling cheerfully, blissfully unaware of what was at stake.

"Well.. I've done – you know, what I need to do," Dora laughed. "And now I just have to add," she held up a little bottle. "This."

I vaguely recognised it as essence of silverweed, which I knew was used in truth serums, but I had no idea what it would do to the current beaker of potion. Pregnancy testing potions were not part of the OWL curriculum and I had certainly never thought I would need to know about them.

"It'll go white," Dora explained patiently, noticing my bemused expression. "If I'm pregnant. And it'll stay green if I'm not."

_Stay green, stay green, stay green_, I pleaded internally, barely able to look at the liquid as she added three drops of the silverweed. For a split second, nothing happened, and I thought that my prayers might actually have been answered. Then I saw it, a thick foamy substance issuing from the spot where the drops had hit the potion, and in a matter of seconds, the liquid was a bright, dazzling white.

Dora's cry was unmistakably joyful, but all I felt was sick to the heart, my one ray of hope gone, and I couldn't halt the feeling of fear and dread spreading through every inch of me as I turned on my heel and left the bedroom.

**oOo**

"Remus, I know this is a lot to take. I know we're only just married, and we're at war, but-" She was sitting on the sofa next to me, speaking to me consolingly, as if a calm tone of voice and rational argument could ease the turmoil in my mind.

"It's not that," I said at once. Surely she knew that it wasn't the idea of bringing up a child in the midst of war that was the biggest problem here. It was far from ideal, certainly, but people did it every day. Werewolves, however, did not.

"Then what?" She was looking completely bewildered and I knew that she truly didn't understand. She had never been able to comprehend the full impact of my condition, much like her cousin before her. Never appreciated that while outwardly it only affected me once a month, inwardly it plagued me constantly, distorting every aspect of my daily life and destroying all possible chances of normality.

"What if it's like me?" I said hollowly. "The one thing that has made me able to live with myself my whole life is that I have never bitten anyone, never infected anyone else with this affliction. And now-"

"Don't you dare make that comparison!" Tonks cut over me, in a low, dangerous voice. "Don't you dare compare a werewolf bite to conceiving a child. It's not the same! And anyway, we don't even know if it will be passed on at all!"

"It will be," I said stubbornly. "I'm sure it will."

"But so what!" Her eyes were blazing. "Will we treat the child any differently? Will we love it any less?"

I said nothing. It wasn't what we would think of the child that concerned me. It was what the child would think of me. And what the whole world would think of me for having a child in the first place.

After a long silence she reached over and put a hand on my cheek. "Please, Remus," she said, her eyes sparkling with sudden tears. "Please be happy. Please want this as much as I do."

Still, I made no reply, despising myself because I knew that my reaction was hurting her and I had sworn not long ago that I would never hurt her again, but unable to even pretend. That night, I heard her muffled sobs into her pillow, and although I drew her towards me and held her tightly, I could not bring myself to say what I knew she wanted to hear, that of course I was happy, that of course I wanted a child, that I had just had a moment of panic but that I would be there for her through everything.

The words wouldn't come. Not that night, nor the next morning, nor as we arrived at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Dora was positively glowing, her tears gone, truly delighted about the baby in spite of my reaction, and I did my best to force a smile too. But I barely saw the scene before my eyes. I hardly noticed the ceremony, or the decorations, or the flowers. I couldn't taste the beautiful cake topped with phoenixes that I had helped Fleur choose all those months before, on the day that I had learnt, for the first time, for certain, that Dora was in love with me.

All my stubbornness and denial was returning. All the reasons not to be with her, that I had managed to bury in the past few, beautiful weeks were now back, louder and clearer than ever before, and I simply couldn't push them away.

"You all right mate?"

I looked up to see George Weasley grinning down at me, and I felt bad. This was a wedding, and I should be joining in the celebrations, not sitting moping on my own.

"Want to talk? I'm all ear!" He grinned at his own joke as he gestured to his only remaining ear, and I had to smile at his constant upbeatness, but I shook my head.

"Thanks, though" I added.

"Alright, but just remember, it might not happen!" And with that he gave me a cheerful wink and ambled over to where one of Fleur's blond haired cousins was sitting, gave a low, exaggerated bow and stretched out his hand, and with a giggle she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

_"It might not happen."_ Except it _would_ happen. Just as George's ear would never grow back, the damage I had done was irreversible. The mistake was already made, and all I could do now was live with the consequences. Dora was happy, and so I would have to pretend to be happy as well.

It was as I had this thought that I realised she was nowhere to be seen. I could see Luna Lovegood dancing around on her own. I could see Ron and Hermione dancing together. Bill and Fleur were mingling now, receiving congratulations from their guests. The disguised Harry was deep in conversation with the formidable Aunt Muriel. But, although my eyes roamed frantically round the marquee, I could not pick out Tonks' bright blonde hair anywhere. And so, when Kingsley's patronus hit the centre of the celebrations seconds later, announcing the fall of the ministry and imminent arrival of Death Eaters, and everything dissolved into total and utter chaos, I missed her, lost as she was in the panicked pandemonium. Perhaps if I had actually seen first hand the danger that both she and my unborn child were in, I would have come to my senses more quickly. And perhaps, if at that moment Death Eaters had not been brutally forcing their way into all our friends' and relatives' houses up and down the country, then I would have been able to stick with my resolve to accept the turn of events as best I could, even though I felt quite certain that no child could possibly want me for a father.

But as it was, I didn't see her until the panic had subsided. In fact, in that moment of confusion, the only face I picked out clearly was Harry's, as it emerged through the slowly wearing off Polyjuice potion, as he looked around for his best friends. And as he finally found them, stretched out his hands as they came running, it was his face, his look of deep concern and desire to flee to safety that stayed etched into my mind long after the three of them had disapparated. And afterwards, when we learnt of the devastation that had been caused in the wake of the ministry's downfall, learnt that Dora's parents had been tortured by none other than Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, the real impact of what I had done crashed over me.

For, child or no child, I knew why Bellatrix had such a personal vendetta against them, why she had been the one to come after Dora during the battle over Little Whinging, why it had been her and her husband who led the attack on Tonks' parents' house that evening, and why she would stop at nothing to try and eradicate them all from this world. It was revenge for letting me infiltrate their family and dirty their bloodlines. They were being punished, and as long as I stayed with them, they would continue to be punished.

**oOo**

Andromeda and Ted were shaken, but unharmed. They insisted that we stay the night, not wanting us to go back home alone, but I barely slept at all, drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep that was wracked with dreams of teeth, claws, tortured screams and triumphant, remorseless shrieks of delight. The next morning, I awoke as the first rays of light were streaming through the window, and trying not to wake Dora, who was sleeping peacefully beside me, I got up and dressed, feeling an overwhelming desire to get outside. I had just reached the door, when her voice spoke from behind me.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to get some fresh air." I could not look at her. I was not even sure where I was going, but my reasons for wanting to get out ran far deeper than fresh air, and I had a feeling she knew that quite well.

"But you'll come back?" Tonks said tentatively. I had not heard those words for a while now. During our first week together, she had asked me almost every time I left the room, and the originally serious question had soon morphed into a regular joke, one that had gradually been phased out completely as she realised that I truly wasn't planning on leaving her. But now I detected the renewed note of worry in her voice, the fear that this time, I might not return.

"I promised," I said dutifully, as I had said before, but the words sounded wooden and forced, and even though I still couldn't look her in the eye, I saw the stricken expression that twisted her face before I turned and left the room.

I walked briskly into the woods, putting a good deal of distance between myself and the house, and then I sank down against the trunk of a tree and put my head in my hands, dwelling on that word, filled with so much weight and meaning.

I had given her my word. I had promised her that I would stay. But I had also promised her something else: _to protect from evil, to the best of my ability_. I had promised to ensure no harm came her way. And how could I do that when I was the one drawing the evil towards her, when all of this was my fault? What was I supposed to do when keeping one promise meant breaking another? If I stayed with my wife, I would be honouring my first proper commitment to her. But in doing so I was only guaranteeing that she would be subjected to more prejudice, disgust and hatred from the wizarding world, and more harm as her own family tried to purge the unwanted branches of their family tree. Bellatrix would continue to hunt her down, stopping at nothing until the world was rid of my wife and her child. My child. The child that, if it weren't for me, would have every chance at a healthy, _normal_ life.

"_You are normal!_" I remembered Harry's words to me the previous Christmas and sat up straighter. Convinced though I was that my own child would be better off without me, that didn't mean that everyone would. And I instantly thought of him, of the young man who had always accepted me, just as his father had done. I recalled his face, filled with panic as he disappeared, just in time, from the wedding the day before, and wondered where he was now. Then I thought of his parents, to whom I had made a silent promise to protect their son the second I saw him lying on the floor of the compartment of the Hogwarts Express as he began his third year at Hogwarts. I thought of Lily, who had as good as told me that she would trust me with Harry's life the day he'd been born, and my resolve was made. I would go with Harry. I would still be helping someone I loved, I would still be helping to fight Voldemort and, most importantly, I would be freeing my wife, my parents-in-law and my unborn child from the terrible stigma of being attached to a werewolf, giving them a chance of a safe and happy life.

It was what would hopefully be my very last selfish and stupid mistake, but at the time it seemed neither selfish nor stupid, and with every step that carried me further from the house, the more I decided that it was for the best, as I finally went to do what I had not had the courage to do while he was growing up. I went to track down my best friends' son.

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><p>Please review<p> 


	41. The Only Road To Follow

**A/n: Thanks for the reviews! And yes, I'm sorry but this story is coming to an end! This is the last proper chapter, and I have an epilogue which I will post soon. I do plan on writing more Remus/Tonks stuff at some point because they are my favourite characters. I might expand this story but more likely write a new one about them both, as I always planned this one to be from Remus's point of view and how he ended up going back to Tonks, and it would be nice to write one from both perspectives.**

**Anyway, h****uge thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed etc throughout the last couple of months. Please enjoy this last chapter :)**

**StarToucher**

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><p><strong>Chapter Forty<strong>

The Only Road To Follow

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><p>"Remus come back!" I heard the hysteria in Hermione's voice as I left the basement of Grimmauld Place, but sheer fury was pounding through every vein in my body, as I slammed the front door and turned on the spot. Blind anger meant that for a while I didn't even notice where I had rematerialised, until I saw the door to The Leaky Cauldron and plunged inside. The pub was almost deserted, and Tom looked up hopefully when I entered, a smile breaking over his face when he saw it was me.<p>

"Alright Remus?" he said, but stopped short at the sight of my livid face, and served me a drink without a word. I sat down at an old table and seethed.

How dare he call me a coward. How dare he be so insulting as to suggest that I was only offering to help him to gain a bit of personal glory.

In that respect, at least, he was wrong. I had not offered to go with him because I wanted fame, but because I had genuinely wanted to help him, because even if it meant neglecting my wife and child, I had wanted to do everything I could to aid the young man who, as Dumbledore had reminded both me and Kingsley, was_ the best hope we had_. Even if my priorities should have rightfully been elsewhere, I had wanted to do some good by avenging my best friends and protecting their son.

"_I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you_," I had said, imploring Harry to understand, but his incredulous face had twisted with anger as he replied.

"_I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you're not sticking with your own kid_, _actually!_"

It took me several hours to calm down enough to acknowledge it, but there was a lot of truth in those words. More truth, in fact, than Harry could ever possibly know.

**oOo**

_Harry was just three weeks old, and I was holding him. James came out of the kitchen with some cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. Lily, completely exhausted, had finally managed to accept James' argument that their son would be absolutely fine in his capable hands for a few hours and had given in to sleep, even if it was only on other sofa, ready to be raised at the slightest sound of disturbance._

_James picked up the blanket that lay on the arm of the sofa and covered her with it, kissing her very gently on the head before sitting down next to me. I had been staring down at Harry, feeling a mixture of delighted incredulity that anyone could be so small and adorable and, as ashamed as I was to admit it, envy. Envy because I knew, even then, that I would never be able to experience the joy of being a parent for myself._

_My thoughts must have shown in my face, because James, looking concerned, said quietly, "what's up?". As neither Sirius nor Peter were there, I felt able to tell him, without fear of ridicule, how I was feeling, how I would never be able to have a child, because even if, by some miracle, I found a partner, I would never be able to risk passing on my condition and making an innocent kid an outcast. As I finished, Harry stirred a little, and James hastily took him back so he wouldn't start crying and wake his mother. When convinced that Harry was still sound asleep, he turned back to face me._

"_Remus, you are one of the best people I know, but you can be so bloody stupid sometimes."_

_He did not let me protest and eyed me with affectionate exasperation. "Listen, one day you will have a kid. Just shut up and trust me on that!" he added, refusing to acknowledge my denial. "And when that day comes, you will realise that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you are, or what other people think of you. It doesn't matter who approves of the fact that you've had a child, even if you're the only person in the world who thinks it was the right thing to do."_

_I knew there had been mutterings amoung some of the older members of the Order that he and Lily, only nineteen years old when she had got pregnant, were far too young to be having a baby, and some had even expressed the view that they had no business bringing a child into this war-filled climate, particularly when Voldemort had already tried to kill them personally three times. But Lily and James had not let this stop them from being thrilled at the arrival of their son, and as I looked down at the tiny bundle in James' arms, I understood why._

"_All that matters is that you have someone, some part of you -" James' voice, whether from tiredness or emotion or a mix of both, was sounding a little broken as he looked down at his sleeping son and continued, "- a part of you that you will love, always, wholly and unconditionally. Someone that, no mater what other people think, is perfect to you in every way."_

"_And if," James continued, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Harry but making me quail nonetheless with his severe glare, "when that day comes, you still don't see that... If I hear you repeat what you've just said to me... If you so much as whisper the word "outcast", I swear I will personally take it upon myself make your life more difficult than I made even Severus Snape's. I'll punch you right in the face like I did to Lockhart if it knocks some sense into you!"_

_The end of his speech was said with a friendly sparkle in his hazel eyes, but I understood that the message he was trying to get across to me was deadly serious._

The memory faded as I, still fuming, finished my third drink. It was a memory I had been keeping determinedly out of my mind since Dora's announcement, because I couldn't face the thought of what James would say to me if he could know how I'd reacted to the news of her pregnancy. As for what he would do if he knew I hadn't even sent word to her in four days, it made my insides curl with shame just to imagine it.

_James isn't here anymore_, I told myself furiously. _It doesn't matter_.

_And why isn't he here_? The more reasonable voice in my mind, the one that had occasionally stood up to James and Sirius and their bullying of Snape, the voice that had finally made me accept that I was doing nobody any favours by pushing Dora away, but that had been completely drowned out by the news that she was pregnant, had returned, stronger than ever now, forcing me to face the truth.

James would never be able to carry out his threat to "knock some sense into me" because he had, as Harry had just reminded me, died trying to protect his wife and child. He had been completely willing to sacrifice himself if it meant there was even the slightest chance the boy he loved so dearly would live on in his stead. And here I was, in the very place I had learned of his death, fuming because his surviving son had told me what I shouldn't have ever been forced to hear in the first place. Here I was, refusing to acknowledge that I even had a child, a new born life, a part of me, growing inside the only woman I had ever loved.

Feeling sick, ashamed and full of self loathing, I threw down some money on the table and left, heading for the one place I knew for certain no one would disturb me.

**oOo**

And now, here I am, looking into my pale, battered reflection in the cracked mirror that still hangs in the bathroom of my parents' old house. And I've been staring at it for what has seemed like an eternity, remembering my childhood, my adolescence, my years as an outcast, my return to the magical world. Every moment, every decision, every turn, both right and wrong, that has led me here today. And I am forced, once again, to face the truth.

Never, in all my life, have I felt as happy as I have in the past month. I was happy at school of course, deliriously happy, but it was not the same feeling of joy that I have had with Dora. School represents a taken-for-granted happiness, one that now, whenever I think of it, feels like a beautiful dream, because I can't even remember what it was like to be that carefree.

This last month has been different. Different because not even for a second did I stop appreciating how lucky I am to have found someone who doesn't just accept me, but who has chosen me, over every other person she has ever met, to spend her life with. Different because I have found everything I ever wanted and never thought I would have in the form of one pink-haired, bright eyed young woman. And today I was willing to throw all of that away, because of an announcement that should have brought me unspeakable joy. Because I was still, even after years of people trying to convince me to accept myself for who I am, refusing to do just that.

Every argument that I have ever been given, in kindness, sympathy, friendliness and frustration over the past thirty years is coming back to me, but none of them hits me with even a fraction of the impact that Harry's words have today. Those harsh, cutting insults said with such force that I have no choice but to listen to them, no option of turning my back and pretending that I didn't hear.

No doubt Hermione would have been calmer to address the situation, more tactful, more rational. But I know now, instinctively, that neither tact nor reason would have made the same impression on me, because I have been presented with reasoned arguments my whole life. Time and time again, those I love most have tried to make me see sense, each time giving up in the face of my obstinacy with sighs, pitying looks and warm words, all of which I have taken for granted, continuing to ignore their advice and push away what I should have been keeping close.

No one has ever spoken to me in the way that Harry just has. No one has ever called me a coward, and it is only now that I realise they really should have done, but I have managed to hide my most cowardly moments behind braver actions, and so they have been forgotten and I have been forgiven. Forgiven for not revealing the truth about Sirius when I should have done, because in the end it saved at least one innocent life. Forgiven for not trying to watch over Harry when he was growing up because I have since been there, many a time, to protect him. Forgiven for avoiding Dora for the best part of a year, for barely speaking to her in spite of the hurt it caused, because at the time I was risking my life for the Order.

And today - I can't deny this now – I hoped that by going with Harry, by trying to protect the man who holds our greatest chance of victory, I would be forgiven for abandoning my wife and child. He has seen through me with more shrewdness than I could have imagined he would, and now, although I do, in theory, still have a choice, I know there is really only one way forward. Finally I see, in a way I never have before, that I am not defined by what I am, but by the choices that I make, and that abandoning my wife and child to fend for themselves in the darkest war of our age would make me a more despicable person than a hundred werewolf bites ever could.

I am still worried about the child, of course I am. Worried about stigma, that it will be shunned by society just like I have been. But then don't we all face adversity? I think of Sirius, who spent thirteen years in a cold cell in Azkaban, with the whole world believing he was a murderer. I think of Dumbledore, who defied the ministry and risked everything to alert the world to Voldemort's return. I think of Lily and James, fighting to the bitter end to protect Harry, and of my own parents, who gave up their safety, their friends and neighbours, for the sake of their son's well being. For my well being. Finally I think of Harry himself, who currently has half the wizarding population against him and the other half relying on him to end this great force of evil, once and for all.

As I remember the dedication and loyalty shown by Lily and James, and my own parents, I know that they would never, no matter what the reason, tell me that abandoning my own child was the right thing to do.

As I think of Sirius falling gracefully though the veil, with Bellatrix screaming triumphantly, I realise I have been lying to myself these past few days, because no amount of distance from me is going to stop Tonks' family being hunted down by their cruel, unyielding relatives.

As I remember Dumbledore's very last words to me, I understand that he is right, and that Harry, young though he is, really is our best hope, in more ways than one.

And as I think of Harry, I know that I am now indebted to him, for he has told me something that I should have been told long ago, and little else could have brought such clarity to my mind today.

I can only hope that Harry's dedication to this war does not send him the same way as his parents, and mine, and Sirius and Dumbledore, can only pray that someone, somewhere, will aid him in his task and ensure that he comes through the fire victorious, ready to build a new life from the ashes. But it won't be me. I have another duty to do, my own child to raise and a family to protect. _To the best of my ability for as long as I shall live._ I promised, and now I understand, finally, that this promise will only be fulfilled if I do not run away. The only place I can run to now is home, and hope that I will be forgiven for my terrible lapse of judgement.

I tear my gaze from the mirror, and leave the house, a final memory flashing through my mind as I do so.

_It was the day I had received my Hogwarts letter. My father had just told me, as gently as he could, that I could not attend the school, that it was too dangerous, and my head was buried in my pillow to hide my misery as he sat on the edge of my bed, talking to my back, attempting to console me and telling me how sorry he was for offending Greyback and causing all this trouble in the first place. _

_"I know you probably hate me for this," he finished sadly._

_Shocked to the core, it had been this that had finally made me raise my head and turn to him. "Of course I don't hate you," I sniffed, scrubbing my eyes with my sleeve, confused because in spite of everything, that sentiment had not even crossed my mind. "You're my Dad."_

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><p>Please review<p> 


	42. Epilogue

I may expand this epilogue at some point, because I did originally plan it to cover more stuff from book 7, but I'd like to go into those events in more detail than one chapter and I wanted this story to have a happy ending for the moment. :)

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

_"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning_." ~ Winston Churchill

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><p>I make my way up the path to Dora's parents' house, my heart thudding nervously. I have sent no word or message at all since I walked out in the early hours of the morning several days ago, and I can only begin to imagine what has been going through her mind.<p>

I knock, and after a few seconds I hear footsteps. Dora opens the door, letting out a gasp as she sees me and then rushing towards me. But the embrace is short lived, and when she draws away again, there is fury on her face. "Where the hell have you been?" she spits. "I've been out of my mind, I thought you might have been killed-"

I take her hand and pull her outside. I certainly don't want to have this conversation with her parents potentially listening. We walk a little further up the garden and sit down on the wooden bench that faces the pond before she rounds on me. Her eyes are still flashing dangerously, and her colourful hair is tinged with red in a way I have not seen it for a long time. "Where have you been?" she repeats.

I have no idea how I can even begin to explain the thousands of thoughts that have streamed through my mind in the past few hours, but I am going to have to try.

"I panicked," I begin. "I was scared."

She makes a derisive noise at the back of her throat but I look at her pleadingly.

"Not for me." There is absolutely no excuse for me running away, of course, but however cowardly I have since realised my actions were, she has to know that at the time, I honestly thought that by distancing myself from her, I would be protecting her. "I was scared for you. For the child. For your family. After what Bellatrix did..." I trail off, shutting my eyes as the fear wells up inside me again. "It's because of me that she's so determined to hunt you down," I say. "And I was so scared that by staying I was putting you in more danger."

"Please believe me." I have to make her understand this, because if she thinks that I was simply running away from the responsibility of a child then I doubt she will ever trust me again.

"I do believe you," she says impatiently. "But honestly, Remus what were you thinking? That if you left then we would be fine? Because let me tell you something, even without you, in the eyes of the Death Eaters this child," she puts her hand protectively on her stomach, "is the embodiment of everything they hate, everything they want to eliminate from this world - muggleborn and blood-traitor and freak! And you really thought that just because you weren't here that Bellatrix would leave us alone?"

"I know it was stupid!" I say miserably. "But I wasn't thinking properly. My mind was a mess!"

"Clearly!"

She still looks so angry, and with her colour returned to her appearance she is far more frightening to me than she has ever seemed before.

"This was my decision to make, Remus! I chose to marry you. Do you think I didn't know what the consequences were going to be from these pure-blood maniacs I have to call relatives? When are you going to get it in to your thick head that I've accepted you for who you are, no matter what? That isolating yourself and running away is only going to make everything worse?"

"I have," I insist. "I do know that now." But she doesn't seem to believe me, and why should she, when I have pushed her back and forth so many times over the last few months and when I have spent the last four days letting her think that I didn't care about her at all?

"You made a promise!" she bursts out, a break in her voice. "You promised you'd come back and I've spent four days thinking you wouldn't!"

"I'm sorry," I say. The words are as feeble as ever, but there is nothing else I can say to that, because she is right. I so nearly broke the promise I made to her, so nearly disobeyed one of the few direct orders my father ever gave me, and she has every right to have lost her trust in me, but this doesn't stop me feeling bitterly unhappy at the wary look that is still written over her face.

"How do I know that this won't happen again? That next time you get scared it won't be four weeks...or four months? How do I know you'll even come back?"

"Because I won't leave you at all." I reach out and take her hand, trying to impress the sincerity of my words, and although she doesn't pull it away, she looks like she is struggling with herself, wanting to believe me but not daring to, in case I hurt her again. I have to, somehow, make her understand what has changed, why my decision to come back was not just born out of guilt or duty, but out of the realisation that _what_ I am truly doesn't matter, and that the only thing that would make me unworthy of having a family would be not standing by them in the first place.

"Dora, I have spent my whole life pushing everything away. Every chance I've ever had to be happy. I've never listened to what people have tried to tell me. I honestly thought, until today, that everyone would just be better off if I leave them alone."

"But I don't think that any more," I press on, as I see her open her mouth to protest. "I- I get it now. And finally everything people have been saying to me...it makes sense!"

_I _on the other hand, am not making any sense at all. All the thoughts that flowed so effortlessly through my mind are difficult to put into words, and I am struggling, stammering, and her touch on my hand is still halfhearted, and the doubt is still in her eyes.

"I mean to keep those promises I made," I tell her. "I'm not going to run away again. I am going to stay with you, and protect you, and care for you, and raise our child with you. Please, just give me one more chance to prove it."

Dora just looks at me and doesn't reply.

"_Please_," I say again, more insistently, hearing my own voice crack. "Because the thought that you won't scares me more than everything else put together."

I look away from her and take a shaky intake of breath as I stare into the calm water of the pond, despising myself for the tears I can feel pricking the back of my eyelids. I have no right to cry, not when I brought this on myself. But I truly mean what I have just said. The fear that she will turn me away, that I have finally pushed her too far, is nothing like what I felt when I learnt of her pregnancy, or even when we heard about Bellatrix's attack on her parents. That was a blind sort of panic, then a sickening feeling of horror, but this is an emotion like no other. A paralyzing dread that she will react only as I deserve her to react. A deep terror that she will tell me she can't trust me anymore and that I will have to live with the consequences of the worst decision I have ever made for the rest of my life.

The fear that it's _too late_.

Sirius did try and warn me, all those months ago in Grimmauld Place, how this would feel. Only now do I fully appreciate what he was saying, and as we sit in silence, the fear grows stronger, and I simply cannot bring myself to look at Dora, because I am too scared that her answer will be no.

"Remus," she breaths at last. Her voice is soft, and when I dare to look up her hair is no longer red and the anger and mistrust has left her face.

"Please." It is a whisper this time, one last desperate attempt to make her understand that I really have changed, that I am back for good and that I mean to stick with her no matter what other obstacles are thrown our way.

She gives a slight shake of her head and raises her arm, and for some reason I flinch, but she just gives a weary sigh and runs her hand gently through my hair.

"You're an idiot," she says, but she laughs, and I understand that she will give me what I have just asked of her. One final chance that is more than I deserve, but that I will make sure I honour, from this moment, until the very end.

"I shouldn't be forgiving you this easily," she says warningly, as her hand comes to rest on the back of my neck. "You know that, don't you?" And I nod, feeling like a schoolboy in trouble. She has every right to be furious, to punish me, to refuse to talk to me, to do to me what I have done to her. But we are at war, and every moment is precious. I have wasted enough time being foolish myself, of course, but Dora is much cleverer than me. She always has been, and in that moment I know that she will not waste time sulking and moping about something that I almost did. Gratitude to her overwhelms me, and I wonder how I had ever thought, even for a second, that I could leave her.

"I should still be angry," she repeats quietly, getting to her feet and stretching out her hand, and as I stand up too she puts her arms around my neck and kisses me. And as I feel that indescribable warmth spread through every inch of my body, I suddenly feel safer than I have ever felt in my life, safe in the arms that I will never pull away from again, safe in the knowledge that I'm home.

"But I'm just glad you're home."

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><p>- <em>The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be<em> -

Fin


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